Take Back Your Angels
by Fireball Massacre
Summary: AU (from apocalypse to bunker) Dean thought that it just couldn't get any worse, but let's say, moving along in time was not what he expected, especially by an angel he never expected to see again. Haunted by his past and the future -with all the secrets & uncertainties- Dean will have to try to adjust to everything thrown his and Sam's way and then Cass' way later on.
1. Prologue

_**(Disclaimer: I own nothing, but the plot as always.)**_

 _ **Summary: AU. Dean had just thought that it just couldn't get any worse, but let's say, moving along in time was not what he expected, especially by an angel he never expected to see again.**_

 **Prologue: This Ain't a Trip to Funky Town**

 **. . . .**

He would have sold his soul again and again for his baby brother; he would have done anything in his power to prevent Sam from ever being in this position. He was the frigging Devil's condom, and the older Winchester brother hated it. It had happened, just like Lucifer said, in Detroit. Sam had said "yes," and it wasn't the most heartfelt yes like an "I do" was supposed to be, not by a long shot. He just couldn't wrap his head around exactly why his brother would say that - why he said yes to Lucifer - why he agreed to let one of those dicks with wings inside his head. It was beyond him. Dean himself had refused to be used as an angel's vessel on multiple occasions.

Hell, he knew Sam told them no, too, even if Zachariah was slowly killing both of them once, but low and behold Cass* comes barging in and crisis averted, only temporarily though. His thoughts paused at the mentioning of the second angel's name. _So much for "guardian angels,"_ his mind growled at him as he swirled the remaining alcohol in his bottle. Yeah, the angel, who was in a place no one knew where, was at as much fault as Dean was.

He had told Cass how many times to look after Sam and to be there when he called, and what happens? There's no angel, just the Devil in a new Sammy suit. _Fan-frigging-tastic._ And Dean can't do shit; he just stares at Sam - no Lucifer- and he's as helpless as ever. He couldn't save or protect his little brother anymore, and even when he tried to, it didn't amount to anything. No one would make a deal that was connected to Sam, or any Winchester for that matter, not even a demon. Dean looked, believe him he looked for any demon that could help him, but he turned up with nothing - absolutely nothing. They just tucked their tails between their legs and skedaddled away, much faster than that toon character could ever go. Okay, so maybe he was exaggerating their speed and imagining the tails, but it sure in hell felt like they were racing when they found it was Dean Winchester, especially when he carved his way through so many demons. He had went through almost every demon out there, and each of them left him with the same feeling. Every time one of them left him, it was the same coldness creeping into his skin, gathering together in the same spot - his heart- where it continued to grow.

He wanted, more than anything, for his brother back, but with each demon turning its back and walking away, the hope faded with them. Even ganking the bastards who laughed in his face served him neither pleasure or pride. There was no longer the familiar rise when on a hunt, not like before everything went to even worse crap. Even when things were at their worst back then, it didn't seem to matter because the Winchester brothers would always make it out somehow. _Not now…_ There was nothing for the oldest brother to do other than accept the other archangel into his head, but he definitely didn't want something swarming inside his head making him do things; it was just creepy. Also, there's the fact that he and Sammy had to literally fight to the death, and of course this wasn't tv, so no one would get that fairy tale ending. When he finally realized in order to end both humanity's and Sam's torture that he had to accept the major dick's proposal, the archangel had already upped and left Earth, leaving the survivors as the clean up crew. The survivors were abandoned, forced to clean up Heaven's mess. However, this project seemed to be really demanding, and it was currently stalled on their side of the fight, maybe favoring Lucifer more often than not.

Nonetheless, Dean didn't want to admit defeat. That just wasn't him, but he was so close in throwing in the towel since the fighting didn't seemed to amount to anything. He was beginning to not care too much anymore, and he was about to not care that he was devoid of that feeling. Soon, he wouldn't care at all, which was sadly a fact of life nowadays. A few of the survivors were on the verge of giving up, but most were just sitting back and waiting for Lucifer to strike them down, already resigning to their fates, and Lucifer was gladly doing just that. He was working to make the world free of humanity, and Dean's almost sure he heard the Devil say he was protecting God's Creations once. He could have laughed at that. The Devil was carving away humanity until there was nothing but the Earth left behind. All man-made things were destroyed, which included every single living human, which in turn included men, women, and even children.

This madness was bound to reach their small camp sooner or later. Apparently, it was sooner rather than later. It was possible the Devil was going to pay them a visit in a matter of days, perhaps a week if they were lucky. He knew this from Chuck, who reported a sighting of Lucifer nearby, and as always, Dean was to decide the next move. He had taken a moment to think. His first thoughts were that he couldn't keep running, and he had to try to end this. In the next second, though, he almost told everyone that they had to remain and fight, but instead he told them to leave if they weren't going to stand and take on the Devil. Most of them stayed in the camp, willing to rise and face Lucifer, while a few ran off in the middle of the night.

Dean wasn't angry… Okay, he was pissed at the cowardice because he understood that Lucifer would catch up to them and tear them apart anyway, it was just a matter of when, so why run? Dean merely narrowed his eyes at the blade hanging in his hands as Chuck gave him the names of the ones that left. He took his foot off the chair and placed it next to his other one on the ground, straightening to his full height. "Did they leave the guns," he asked after all the names had been said, and he received a quick response.

"Yes they did, Dean, just as you told them to." Chuck replied, but then he paused and questioned. "Do you think we have any chance in beating him?"

"There's no way in hell." At least he was being honest with himself, and since he knew everyone had the same answer, he didn't bother to sugarcoat it, something he never really did. Sam had always been the one that was involved with his feelings, while Dean just shoved it all down. Everyone knew death was around the corner, and the outcome of this battle would be death on their side since no one had an angel blade or anything to kill that son of a bitch, and Dean wasn't too keen on decapitating his own brother just yet. He was still in between the transition of not caring about not caring and caring that this whole apocalypse business was slowly wearing him down.

In a few weeks, Dean guessed he would be able to do anything to end this torture in the most severe way, such as killing his younger sibling. He had a feeling that he could end all the death and destruction for humanity and any other people that made it out alive, except angels of course. There has been a rumor that every angel had a hand in the apocalypse from the beginning, which would mean so had Cass, also leading to the understanding that the angel had lied. Well, he had been the one to tell the angel that humans lie when they really want something, but in Dean's book (which would have to have pictures because Sam was the one that loved reading those long ass paragraphs, not like Dean, who liked ones with more pictures than words), Cass wasn't classified as human. He was more like the enemy than anything else. That would explain why Cass disappeared as soon as Lucifer got ahold of Sam.

Presently, Dean shook his head with an irritated expression on his face. Tonight was going to be long, and since the hunter stayed up all night, it was definitely one of the most tedious things ever to just sit and wait. Then, the sleepless night was followed by no sleep the following day, and when night arrived another time, he still refused to sleep. He just knew that mighty Luci was making her way to their front door, and he understood that if he drifted even a little bit, he wouldn't go out fighting like he wanted to or if he took a nap, he might wake up and tell the world, "fuck it, solve your own problems for once."

The next day came finally, and Dean's first thought was about Mother Nature. Whatever people say about Mother Nature didn't compare to Dean's version. He was pretty sure she was the greediest and most unpredictable bitch ever because she withheld precious water for four days, and now she decides that white crap was needed, accompanied with a cold that could give you frostbite if you didn't wear at least three or four jackets.

 _Man, this day was going to suck,_ Dean was certain even before it was 12:02 in the morning. He would have known precisely at midnight, but he wanted to doublecheck before he labeled the day as Doomsday All Over Again. Once he fixed his green jacket, he walked outside into the white blizzard that somehow formed in the blink of an eye, and he raised a brow at the weather, which could very well be the death of all of them if Lucifer didn't reach them or left them for another time.

Some may wonder why they chose to set up camp in a place like this. Well this place rarely sees snow, and if it does, usually it's a light dusting, so if this crazy weather was anything to go by, this marked their final stand. Dean was going to make this unforgettable, so he retrieved his blade from its holder, holding it in a firm, steady hand that was used to handling weapons from a young age. He looked over his gun, mentally adding it to the list of weapons that he had, even though it was pretty useless and only had three bullets. He just felt better with a spare weapon to fend off Lucifer, even though he knew none of what he had could kill him.

He realized after a moment of entering the rigid cold that he had been the first one outside, and he took no time in getting even more ready. His body tensed a bit, green eyes locked onto the horizon, waiting for movement that would signal the Devil's approach. His brows drew together as he attempted to squint through the gusts of wind that blew snow straight into his face. Next, the sun started to peek around the clouds; it was enough to cause Dean to shield his eyes with his arm for a second and grunt in annoyance, closing one eye that was closest to the sun's light. Now he couldn't see anything at all. First the snow, then the sun, what next? He wondered if the day could get any worse, and soon he was answered, just not by what he expected though.

Instead, it was a deep voice that sounded off to his right. "It's about to get a lot worse, Dean," stated the voice, and Dean knew exactly who it belonged to, and he swirled his head to face the stoic one beside him.

"What the hell are you doing here, Cass?" He snapped, glaring at the angel, who didn't look over at him.

He just replied, staring ahead, "I'm here to help." He tilted his head, eyes squinting. "Are you positive that you would do anything to get your brother back?"

He effectively cut off what Dean had intended to say, which would have been, "oh yeah? Where were you when Sam needed help? That was a real awesome job you did back there, really took one for the team, thanks ya dick." Dean thought for some time over his question before he responded. Of course he would do anything, he would swap shoes with Sammy if he had to. He wouldn't admit aloud how desperate he had got trying to save Sam and how it almost made him go nuts. His gaze turned suspicious, unsure of why Cass was suddenly bringing it up now. His stomach tightened faintly, anticipating a very bad reason.

"Would you still sell your soul, Dean?"

Dean blinked a bit at the blue-eyed angel, who waited patiently for Dean's brain to process his words since he was too focused on another topic. "... What?" His brow raised up some more.

"For Sam, would you do it, sell your own soul? Even if you had to 'walk hand and hand' with Lucifer or Michael later on?" Finally, the blue eyes slid over to reach the intense green-eyed gaze, which was becoming increasingly suspicious. "Before you ask, I discovered that phrase from you…" He paused, tilting his head, gaze going a little to the left of Dean, as he thought. "I don't really understand why you chose that one, though-"

"I've never said that, Cass." Dean's gaze flickered to the horizon real fast then back at the angel at his side, who actually looked back in his direction when he began to speak.

"You didn't have to." His eyes turned away again just as Dean opened his mouth to say something, which always annoyed the man, especially like this instance, when he was trying to talk to the angel, and he was looking this way and that. It bothered him quite a lot actually. Cass added like it was an afterthought, "It was all over your thoughts."

"Cass, get out of my head!" He commanded the angel. "You don't just go snooping in someone's head."

The angel looked over. "Yes, I guess you could consider that similar to your 'personal space,' am I correct?"

Dean made a face that said it all. _Well duh._ "Yeah, that's as personal as it gets, Cass."

"I guess I haven't had a chance to learn that yet."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

The angel's blue eyes searched his face as he stated, simple and flat out, yet it was in a way that made Dean almost feel stupid. "I'm not from this time; I'm from the past."

Dean's face would have been priceless to anyone else, just not Cass. "I'm not an idiot, man."

The other's brows drew together in confusion. "I did not say that you were…"

Dean's one eyebrow remained raised. "Then what are you saying? That I just have to believe that you're from the past?"

"Yes. Why is this a concern, Dean? I'm not lying."

"How do I know that," questioned Dean, crossing his arms and cautiously keeping the knife away from Cass. "You could be lying just like before. Everyone does that."

"I don't understand why." He appeared like he wanted to continue, but instead, his gaze turned much more serious. "You have ten seconds to choose whether I'm lying or telling the truth."

Dean shrugged a shoulder. "You're lying." At that, Cass' expression darkened in anger. A smirk tilted up his lips, only to fade in the next second. "You haven't done anything to show me that I can trust you. It's just that simple, no proof, no trust. You better learn that."

"I was the one that raised you-"

"Yeah, you brought me back from Hell into an even bigger Hell, congratulations, let's give him a prize." He stated; it was laced with obvious sarcasm, which undoubtedly went over the angel's head, who did the weird squinting followed by the head tilt. "If you don't notice, this future is complete crap, so it isn't much of an improvement from the actual 'Hell.'"

"I… apologize for whatever I did, but I'm here to bring you back to another time, so you can fix this. You can stop this from happening if you _let_ me send you back."

"Once again, I don't think you're telling the truth." It was his turn to turn his head slightly to the side, eyes locking onto the other's. "So stick it up your ass." He went to turn and walk away, but an angel blocked his path, bringing up his fingers. Before Dean could react, the fingers poked him in the forehead, and everything swam in his vision.

Dean disappeared from the angel's view, and the angel shook his head once. It was an awkward motion for him, so he stopped it. Instead, he mumbled to himself. "Dean doesn't seem to get better with age like some have. In fact, he might have gotten worse to deal with." He squinted into the distance with a frown as he saw movement heading his way. He should probably leave himself now.

. . . .

He watched from afar as the blade cut the angel open, and the blade sharply came up, and everything exploded in blinding white, startling the human awake, eyes snapping open for a second then closed in the next as the pain in his head increased. He groaned softly. Man was his head killing him. He couldn't remember the last time it felt like this, probably when he had the great idea to party all night, way back when. That was awesome, just not the morning that followed.

He stretched on the bed before getting more comfortable, pressing his face into the sheets. It was surprisingly soft and didn't smell over used. It smelled fairly new actually, and it felt like heaven, minus the angels because that could make anyone sick to their stomachs. He made a face, thinking back to his dream, but soon waved it off, opting to sink into the amazing bed. It has been forever since his bed felt this good; he concluded that he must have been really tired to feel this great or he must have done something last night, if you get what he means. It was probably the latter.

He felt a small nudge in his brain, telling him he had something important to do, but he shoved it away. He didn't want to think; he didn't wish to move. He just wanted to remain where he was, surrounded in warmth and peace that never seemed to reside in him or it was quickly squashed by the survivors knocking on his door and telling him Lucifer annihilated yet another city. He decided to soak up all he could get, and when it persisted, he was glad if only for a moment. Unfortunately his brain had other plans.

It drifted back to his weird dream another time. Why would he dream about that, and why would he care? He turned his head to rest his opposite cheek on the bed. It would be impossible anyway, and also, he'd be glad if that happened. One less angel to deal with in the world. He shrugged it off, relaxing more into the bed. There was the feeling that he had something to do again, but he wasn't sure exactly what it was. He was about to drift when something reached his ears, and he nearly had a heart attack.

"Dean, I think I found a case," the voice called. Dean's eyes flashed open, staying still for a few moments, and he listened to a bag's rustling, a smell invading his noise. He suddenly realized that Lucifer was heading their way, and he froze in the bed, expecting Sam's body to crash through the door and take him out for the last time, but nothing happened, so green eyes scanned the room, brain slowly collecting its findings. Then, he blinked. Did Cass actually send him to the past? He hesitated, glancing the room over again, growing confused. If this was the past, then why didn't he recognize anything around him?

He was suspicious again, wondering if the angel had lied to him about this too. He rolled onto his back, maneuvering his body so his feet rested on the floor, and he raised his upper body, hands running through his hair. _Alright, you can do this Dean, just get to your feet._ He coaxed himself, but he didn't move, except for his head rising and turning so he could survey the room again. He saw his green jacket discarded on the chair, and that was when he checked himself over. He was wearing the same clothing as before, so it was definitely his body. A sickening feeling rose up in his throat. He felt bare when he realized he didn't have his weapons, but after searching for a bit, he found them resting on top of a bed table. He snatched them up and both them on his person, feeling a hundred times better now that he had them close.

You couldn't be caught with your pants down because you might end up with a knife in your back. It was appalling that the survivors were turning on one another, you'd think they'd be better than demons _and_ angels, especially those angels. Dean gritted his teeth and finally reached his feet. He took two steps toward the door when it opened, and he automatically tensed, eyes on his baby brother. He expected to be sliced in half in that moment, but Sam looked over at him with those eyes only Sam could pull off, and Dean's chest tightened. Maybe in this time, Sam was just Sam, not Lucifer. He felt his body sway some.

Was Sam really Sam? Sam took a step into the room, asking him if he was alright. The room began to rotate around the older brother, and his body shook some. He wasn't sure what to do, so he forced a grin. "Yup, I'm fine, Sammy." Even though he felt like he was going to pass out, he turned his look on his brother, who didn't seem convinced, but he nodded and told him to come out when he was ready. When his brother closed the door, Dean stumbled back to sit on the bed.

 _Just get up, would you?_ His brain snapped at how he was so out of it. If he stayed any longer Sam would know something was up. With that in mind, he shakily made it to his feet, and he cautiously journeyed to the door, cracking it open so he could peer out without the chance that his neck was in range of a weapon. He deemed it safe, and he opened the door all the way, pausing at the hall after hall, and he paled.

This was going to be difficult to get used to, the gigantic place he was in, not Sam being just Sam-fucking-Winchester. He didn't want to hope for that yet. It would just lead to disappointment.

* * *

 ** _(This is the first Supernatural story I have written down, so I'm not sure how it'll turn out or even if I'll post anymore chapters. If you want me to continue just let me know. I had to split this up anyway, so I have one or two other chapters already done, but they might just stay where there are, depending on if this interests anyone or not. Also, since this is an AU, it'll probably have some things from both timelines (the one with the future apocalypse and the almost one), and the characters probably won't be spot on either.)_**

 ** _*Cass/ Cas- could be spelt both ways (whatever you prefer)_**


	2. Chapter 1

_**(Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. Thanks for the favorite, follows, and review. Since there's a few people that want me to continue, I'll try to so.)**_

 ** _Summary: AU. Dean had just thought that it just couldn't get any worse, but let's say, moving along in time was not what he expected, especially by an angel he never expected to see again._**

 **Chapter One: To Hell With it, Let's Wing it**

 **. . . .**

Dean eventually found his way to Sam; he just hoped he remembered how to find his room again, but he supposed that that was the least of his problems because he really had to piss. _Like bad._ However, he wasn't about to ask Sam where it was because he knew how'd that play out. It wouldn't end very well. Instead, he'd wait for Sam to go, and then he'd go after. Also, there's the problem that he always seemed to freeze momentarily upon looking over at his brother, just like what happened when he found the kitchen.

He tensed up for a few moments, allowing Sam some time to glance up from his breakfast and make a face. "You sure you're alright, Dean?" His younger brother asked, clearly worried.

He mentally shook himself, and he placed on a smirk. "Yup, just had a long night I guess. If you want, I'll tell you all about it. It was real…"

Sam cut him off. "No, I'm fine. I'd rather not know what you did last night." He turned his eyes away, taking a bite of food in the process.

"Suit yourself, Sammy." He simply said, moving his chair back with one hand, and with the other he brought his food close as he sat down. He could only guess that what this Dean did was similar to what he did. He also thought the place seemed only to be occupied by the two of them, but he wasn't really too sure. Soon his stomach won over the thinking, so he took a bite of the eggs and nearly choked on them. It wasn't that they were bad, man they were _great_ , so good that he had to limit how fast he ate them. During the apocalypse, eggs were a luxury, so was any food now that he mentioned it. And so was pretty much anything else.

After he finished, he grabbed his plate and went to put it in the sink. He stretched out his hand, inches from the handle on the sink, and without another delay, he turned it, getting cold water rushing out. He blinked. _That's awesome!_ Running water was so great, and he instantly thought of taking a shower whenever Sam unintentionally showed him where the bathroom was. He rinsed his dishes, setting them down and turning off the water. He leaned against the counter after, crossing his arms and watching as his brother took out his laptop. Sam always loved that thing, and he hated it when Dean used it. He almost chuckled, but concealed it just in time. He studied Sam more closely this time, trying to find even a hair out of place that would indicate Lucifer was still in his head. So far, he found nothing.

Hope blossomed in his chest without his consent. He couldn't be a hundred percent certain that this was his brother, but it sure as hell looked like it, and it sorta felt like it. However, an inkling scratched at his brain, making him nervous. Maybe the Trickster was up to no good again? He certainly hoped not. He only saw that son of a bitch a few times anyway. However, he would feel a whole lot better if he had someone who could see into Sam and through images created by the Trickster, which would mean that he needed an angel, and not just one of them, but the one that got him here in the first place. He hated that he had to rely on an angel's assistance, even the thought made him glare. He wiped it off and cleared his throat.

Sam drew his eyebrows together. "What is it?"

Dean shrugged. "You know, I was just wondering about things, and I guess… Uh…" _Shit, those eyes._ He looked so much like Sam that he wanted to hug the kid, but he knew how awkward that would suddenly get. He paused at the other look Sam was giving him; it was turning slightly impatient, probably because he was trying to work on something at the moment, so the older Winchester forced it out as casually as he could. "Where's Cass?"

Sam raised a brow this time. "We haven't seen him in weeks. Why are you bringing him up now?"

Dean said. "Guess I'm just curious-" He almost tacked on "about the feathery dick," but he stopped it. He tilted his head to the side quickly then it returned to its original position, moving his shoulders in a shrug along with it. "Well, it doesn't matter right now… I'm going to look at some books." He walked the way he had come before a disbelieving expression formed on Sam's face. He had seen a place filled with books before when he was looking for the kitchen. That was a good enough place to start looking for the bathroom, not really, but he might as well try since Sam was taking forever, and he really wanted the bathroom - well he really _needed_ it now.

All he noticed were books and more books, and with each book that came within his vision, his jaw tightened. He was about to walk past a tower of books when he heard footsteps; on instinct, he ducked behind the books, blade instantly in his hand. Eyes narrowing on the doorway, he prepared to launch himself at his foe, but when Sam appeared and Dean realized it was just him, he stumbled to catch himself, only managing to slide on a book. He flailed to stop gravity from taking over, accidentally snagging on the mountain of books, and everything flung everywhere, even his knife and gun got displaced, and he was left unarmed and sprawled across the floor. He propped himself onto his elbows just as Sam came over and helped him to his feet the rest of the way.

To cover up the mishap, Dean gritted out. "We really need a housekeeper or a maid, you know like one dressed like the chick in Clue, with the-"

"Dude, I don't need the visual." Sam said, and Dean grinned, holding back his discomfort with it, while he eyed the floor. Under a few of the books, he spied his gun and grabbed it fast, placing it back in its place on him. Now he just had to locate his trusty blade. It has been with him as long as the apocalypse had lasted; he found it hidden somewhere in a building he had raided. He was about to turn the whole place upside down when Sam bent down, digging around in the books and picking up the weapon. He gently placed his finger to the blade. Almost seeming like he was speaking to himself, his voice began, "I've never seen this before." He took his hand away from the blade when he realized it was extremely sharp. He offered the weapon over to his older brother. Instead of asking what he wanted to, Sam went with. "You know that you don't have to carry those around with you here, right? It's kind of warded."

"Pft, yeah," Dean nodded and tried to hide his disbelief, taking the knife back. "Course I did, Sam, what, we've been here for like forever?" Winging it, not sure that's how you ace it, but he was trying.

Sam's face showed his suspicion. "Yeah, sure, whatever you say Dean." He shook his head and walked off. After a moment, Dean became his shadow from at least three feet behind him. _Now that's a shadow fit for Gigantor over there._ Dean stifled a laugh. He made note of the door and made his way to his bedroom, grabbing a clean pair of clothes. Once he made it back to the bathroom door, or at least what he hoped was the bathroom and not Sammy's room, cause that would be hard to explain. He shook his head, waiting and waiting. He placed his ear against the wall and heard running water, and he jumped back as it was shut off and the door opened.

"Heya, Sammy, got everything cleaned up princess?"

Sam made yet another face at him, and Dean couldn't help the laugh. It sounded strange, even to himself. It's been forever since he had the chance to even smile let alone laugh loudly.

"Come on, you were in there for awhile, what else would I say?"

"Normal people don't go around saying that, you know."

"You do know who you're talking to right?" Dean smirked. "I'm Dean-frigging-Winchester, part of the Winchester family, and everyone knows that we aren't normal." He clapped him on the shoulder to move him out of the way. "Later we'll braid that hair, okay?" The last time he saw "his brother" he had shorter hair, so he found that strange, not really; it just looked different than what he was used to.

He closed the door behind him and locked it. He leaned against the door, sagging a bit and running a hand through his hair. Was he overdoing it? He turned his eyes to the shower, placing his clothes on the toilet seat; it was closed, mind you, because if it wasn't that would royally suck. As he looked into the mirror, he turned his head this way and that. His face wasn't covered in dirt and grime like before Cass showed up to transport him here, and neither were his arms. They were both unusually clean. Then, he pulled off his shirt and discovered the dirt all over his torso. Well, he was as dirty as he thought he was supposed to be.

He undressed and went into the shower, turning on the hot water as far as it could go. His previous worries left him as soon as the water hit him. Man did he miss indoor plumbing, hot water, and electricity. During the apocalypse, there was no electricity in any houses anymore, and with Lucifer clearing cities off the map, plumbing was a rarity because staying put meant death. The best way to survive would to continue running, never stopping to smell the roses, but there's only so much running a person could do. He let out a sigh, brushing his hair out of his face. He and his camp had done that a few times in hope that they could surprise the Devil with numbers they would get if they ran to another place or maybe they'd get really lucky and find something to gank his ass. Dean wasn't that optimistic.

He knew he was running from his mistakes, running so he didn't have to face _Sam_. He had let his brother down when it was the most important. He dipped his head, letting the water roll down his back. _Yeah, this already beats the apocalypse._ Dean moved his head so the water hit his face. It was scalding hot, but he didn't mind. He actually appreciated the steaming water. He liked a lot of things here, he found himself discovering. Yeah, this place wouldn't make it without power because from what he seen, they wasn't really windows. This place would have been pitch black without the lights, and it would be a bitch to supply candles for the entire place. Even at his small camp and the tiny rooms, it was difficult to light them a little bit or to even find good candles. Sometimes they found a lantern, but that was only once in a blue moon.

He focused his attention onto the water again, letting it wash over him like it was the last time he'd ever be in a working shower again. Actually, he couldn't help but feel that this was a dream or he'd be sent back tonight and realize that this was never going to be his. He guessed he had to enjoy it while it lasted, and enjoy he did. He stayed in the shower until the water reached a temperature that was almost chilling him to the bone, and then, he waited a few minutes to make sure.

Finally, he pulled himself out of the shower, dressed, and wiped a hand on the mirror, meeting his own eyes staring back. He thought there was something left unsaid- _like How was this possible? What time did the angel send him? The past? Another future? Why him of all people?_ \- but he couldn't pull himself to ask himself anything. He didn't want to know the answer, so he gathered up his semi-dirty and ruined clothes, and he left the bathroom. After he put his clothes in what he presumed was his clothes basket, he made his way to find Sam. He checked the kitchen first, still holding his towel that he was drying his hair with, and saw him. He placed the towel on his head and ruffled up the soaked hair. "Find anything good?" Sam was zoned in on his laptop, so Dean withdrew his towel from his head, bundled it up, and whipped him with it.

"Dude, seriously?" Sam basically yelled at him since he was fumbling with keeping the laptop on the table instead of on the floor.

Dean played it off like it wasn't his fault by letting a small smirk form. "What did I do?" He paused and added. "Come on, Sammy, stop whining. It didn't hurt." He made his way to lean against the counter by the sink again. He went back to drying his hair, both of them being silent now until Sam said.

"Who's the princess now?"

"Huh," Dean raised a brow, uncovering his face. He realized what Sam just hinted to, so he glared faintly. "Shut up."

"You can dish it out, but you can't take it?"

Dean could even hear the tiny bit of arrogance in his younger brother's voice. "I can handle it just fine." That expression in his brother's face made Dean scowl.

"Can you, Dean, can you really?"

If Dean wasn't so happy to converse with Sam like before everything hit the fan, he would reach over and strangle the kid. He did the next best thing; he threw the towel at his face and smirked triumphantly when it shut Sam up. "Sure can Sammy." He winked at his brother. " _Always_ can."

Sam just presented him with a smile. Dean saw his younger brother again - not Lucifer- and he smiled back. It was wiped off when Sam told him, joking. "Keep telling yourself that."

It took Dean a moment then he rolled his eyes. "Alright, what's the case," he changed the subject.

"Oh, uh," Sam turned to the screen, putting the towel beside it. "It doesn't really say much besides a few abandoned cars… The passengers were nowhere to be found after they had these 'supposed' crashes."

"Doesn't sound like it's really our thing." Dean cocked a brow at him.

"There was a frantic call from one of the victims before she died." He clicked the video (it was Facetime or whatever so they could see the girl), moving the screen over so Dean could look easier. "It seems like what we go after."

Dean agreed. "Well, what are we waiting for?" His feet stalled. "I'll just wait outside, Sam."

Sam nodded. "I'll get the stuff."

Dean and Sam moved. Dean went to head out of the kitchen; Sam began to pack away his laptop. Dean paused before leaving though. He could just feel eyes on his back. "What," he snapped accidentally.

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

Dean turned to face him. His arms crossed over his chest. "I don't know, am I?" He face showed his slight annoyance when Sam didn't answer him right away. Perks from being the "Captain" of a group for years. "Okay, what am I missing? I'm not playing 50 Questions with you right now."

Sam pointed to the counter, and Dean followed his finger. He saw keys. "It's out front." For a second, Dean made no move to get the keys, but when he went to go for it, Sam already beat him to it, dropping it in his hands.

Dean immediately turned on his heels and went to find the exit, which he guessed was near the library area and up the staircase to the door on the balcony. Luckily, he guessed right, and he mentally flipped off the bunker. _Me 1, whatever this place is none_ , Dean beamed, opened the door and went out, all the while hoping Sam didn't have some cheap new jellybean car. He made it outside, and what he saw made his grin widen. He approached the black beauty, placing his hand along side its door. He traced the exterior, glancing in the window and whistled. "I can't believe you're up and running baby." Yeah, he had his one at home, somewhere, but it was rundown into the ground since it was far too expensive to get up to date, so to speak, and the gas was outrageous. "I can't believe you're Sam's car."

"Actually, dad left it for you." Sam's voice made him jump. Apparently he was ogling the car for a while because Sam had two full duffel bags in his hands. He put one duffel in the backseat, and the other one was still in his hands as he went to the back of the car. Dean didn't need to be told what to do; he just opened it for Sam, and both his eyebrows shot up at all the weapons in the truck. _Damn, how was the duffel supposed to fit?_ Dean had no idea.

He went to the passenger side, not entirely sure if this was a time that he allowed Sam to drive his car. "So are you driving or what?"

Sam closed the trunk and replied. "You usually drive."

Dean went to the other side then, not missing the look from Sam. Sam was suspecting something was up, Dean was sure, but he didn't really care at the moment. He opened the door, but before he sat down Sam tossed something at him. It was a dark blue-gray jacket. He hadn't realized he forgot one, so he quickly donned it over his black shirt. "Aw, thanks Sammy. It shows you truly care." He slipped into the driver's seat as Sam did the same in the passenger seat, both closing the doors at the same time. "Where to Google?"

Sam ignored the name. "Dudleytown, Connecticut."

"Dub-Dudley… whatever it was, here we come." Dean started the car, hands skimming over the steering wheel. He missed his baby.

"Are we going to go or are you going to drool all over the car?"

"What, you jealous?"

"Hell no, Dean."

Dean blew out a bubble of spit at him with a smirk. "I know you love me." He moved his head up along with his eyebrows. He put the big behemoth in gear after he glanced away from Sam, and they were off. After a few minutes of driving, he asked. "So do you know how to get to this place?"

The younger brother's brows shot up, and he frowned. "Not exactly."

" _Awesome."_ His green eyes turned to the road as they narrowed. He never did like going in blind.

"Wait," Sam's voice started. "I think I can find out."

* * *

 ** _(Next time: What is That Thing? It Looks Like the Grudge Had Sex With a Wendigo)_**

Reviews:

KianCalling: The place Dean was brought to was the future the show followed, more or less. His appearance will change it though, so it won't follow the show up to a certain point, which you'll found out eventually. Also, this apocalypse timeline is different than the show's.


	3. Chapter 2

_**(Disclaimer: Still own nothing except the plot.)**_

 ** _Summary: AU. Dean had just thought that it just couldn't get any worse, but let's say, moving along in time was not what he expected, especially by an angel he never expected to see again._**

 **Chapter 2: What is That Thing? It Looks Like the Grudge Had Sex With a Wendigo**

 **. . . .**

It was now dark as the Impala hummed along the roads, and Dean loved it. There were no people infected by the Croatoan Virus leaping for them, and no worries that Lucifer was beside you. He paused and winced. Okay, he wasn't going to say that he didn't worry that Lucifer was just camping in Sam's head and waiting for the perfect opportunity to savagely murder him, even if that fear was ill advised. He knew full well that the Devil didn't wait; he did what he wanted when he wanted to do it.

Dean was just being paranoid… maybe, maybe not. There was like a two-sided war going on in his head. One was on Sammy's side screaming for Dean to realize Sam was just himself, the little nerd brother he protects, while the other side was more reserved, but still there. This one was cautious and hesitant. It told Dean to not overload his brain, but to keep in mind that this could all be a trick. He was totally lost on who to trust. He glanced sideways to go over his brother, who was messing with something that resembled a tablet. "Hey, what's the thing say now?"

Sam's face was lit up by a soft light as he turned it. "I don't know."

"I think it's broken," commented Dean, who watched as the screen go fuzzy with gray for another time. He jerked the car back into the right lane, eyes on the road this time. It has been awhile since he drove this, but he was very good if he does say so himself, just don't take that one instance into account or the few ones before.

"It shouldn't be; I just got it last week."

He almost said that technology sucked anyway, but Sam told him to turn right, which he did. "I don't think it's this way."

"Why?" Sam questioned as he observed the static-filled screen. A hand gripped the top of his head and moved it so his face was pointed out the windshield.

"That's why."

Sam let out a long exasperated sigh. "It points here."

"Well, I doubt even we could fit between those trees…" He put the car in reverse, placing his hand on Sam's seat as he turned to gaze over his shoulder. "Let's go find someone nearby, give your thing a rest. Maybe it'll work when we're dead, but probably not though." He backed up the car real fast, and when the tires hit the road, he instantly put it in drive and continued forward. They traveled up a few miles when they noticed a quaint building, and Dean pulled over, turning the car off.

"I'll be right back." Sam said as he got out of the car.

"Okay?" He stayed in his seat, raising a brow. He only got out of the car when Sam was halfway to the house, which was actually some sort of Old Person Home that Dean didn't know the name of. He leaned on Sam's door, fixing the black coat that he had put over the rest of his clothes at the last place they stopped, which had been for gas for the car. He must have been watching the house for some time because it was beginning to cause him to become agitated. His thoughts were instantly directed to something bad. He feared Sam was going to end up hurt. What if they were killing him as he just stood there? What would he do then? He clenched his hands. He couldn't lose Sam again, and he refused to let anyone hurt him, even if there's a chance Sam could pull a fast one on him and slice his throat. He shoved his thoughts aside as an intruding voice instructed him to calm down and that Sam was fine.

He didn't believe that part, so he made his way to the front door. It was eerily silent, and that troubled him greatly. Complete silence was never good in his opinion, and he took two steps back. He smashed into the door; it burst open as he stumbled in, gun at the ready. "Alright, you son of a bitch, who's first?" He had the gun pointed in the direction of five older people, who merely blinked at him.

"Dean, what are you doing?"

"I, uhm…"

Sam pushed the gun down, and Dean hid it behind his back. The younger one put up his hands. "I'm so sorry… My brother's just really into cop shows." He gave Dean a look that instructed him to play along.

"Uh, yeah, who ya gunna call?" Dean paused. _Wrong thing._ It's been awhile since he had _seen_ any _tv_ , let alone watching one. "The police that's what, yup." _Just not now._ He raked his brain for a cop show reference, and he said the first thing that came to mind. "Bad boys what you gonna do when we come for you?"

Sam looked ready to facepalm himself, but instead, he offered to fix the door, which one of the ladies shook her head and told him it was fine. They were going to get it replaced tomorrow anyway since it had been sticking.

"Well, it ain't now-"

"Dean!"

"Sorry ladies." He had slipped his gun into its holster, so he placed his hands in his pockets, presenting them with a strained grin.

Someone cleared their throat, and Dean looked over at them. "And?"

 _And what?_ Dean was confused, so his eyes flickered to Sam and back to the person. "And dude…?"

The person nodded.

. . . .

They made it out to the car, barely, because Sam was pulling the "What the Hell, Dean?" card, and Dean kept rolling his eyes at his statements. "How is it my fault that I thought he was a she?" He questioned with a glare.

"That's not the point, Dean."

He forgot how bitchy his younger brother could be. "Then what is it, _Sam_?" He put emphasis on his name, unintentionally. "Because you're really being a dick about the whole thing."

"You almost shot them."

"But I didn't." Dean stated, hands on the top of the roof. "So it shouldn't matter."

"You could have given them a heart attack." Sam had copied his position without realizing it.

"Literally?"

"It's possible."

"Well people die Sam, I was just saving them time."

Sam glared at him. "Okay, what the hell is your problem?"

Dean, in turn, glared back. "I'm just saying that if they're this close to whatever the town was, maybe they were affected, huh?"

"That's not what you said."

Dean abruptly opened his door. "Some things are worse than a gunshot," he muttered.

Sam's face softened a fraction. "Dean-"

"Get in the car, Sammy, or I'm leaving your ass." Of course he wouldn't leave Sam anywhere, but Sam didn't know that. Sam opened his mouth, but Dean glared more. "And drop the subject." He didn't want to talk about the apocalypse _ever_ , especially with his younger brother. It would save him a lot of heartache. He was in the car and closed the door after him before Sam even went to open his own.

"I don't think we should drop this Dean."

"Screw you and your feelings, Sam." His face darkened. "Just get in the car."

"No, we need to talk about this."

He told his younger brother that they didn't need to talk. All they had to do was kill things and get the job done, no questions asked. That's how they always did it, and that's how Dean wanted it. He didn't want to say anything about anything. He was fine - well alive- so why did it matter? Everyone survived.

Sam instantly responded that he couldn't hold everything in all of the time, and Dean insisted that he was okay with how he dealt with things, and it worked for him, so Sam should drop it, but Sam wouldn't. He just kept pushing and pushing in the way that Sam did to Dean sometimes, and finally, he snapped.

"I haven't needed your help or anyone's help for years, Sam. I'm handling it perfectly fine, so get off me okay?"

"So that's why you nearly attacked me this morning?"

"That's nothing you can help with-"

"Because you won't let anyone help."

"Ever think I don't want it, huh?"

"But you need it, Dean." Now Sam's voice was more gentle. "You can't just push people away all the time."

He sighed lowly. "I can if I don't trust them."

Sam remained quiet, so Dean carefully observed his face and regretted it. He looked really hurt, and it was all Dean and his big mouth's fault.

"Listen, Sam, I didn't mean any of that…" His voice trailed off, his foot seeming to be crammed down his throat. Silence filled the car until a screech sounded at Dean's door and Sam heard him swear loudly. A large truck filled with seemingly college students skidded to a halt a few yards away. Dean placed a hand on one of the marks along the whole side of his car. He opened the door and stepped out. "What the hell?" He left the door open. "Hey asshats, didn't you see the fucking car? How about you come back this way, and we'll _talk_ for a minute." Talk wasn't what he wanted to do; he wanted to kill the twerps. The truck started backing up.

Sam went to tell him something, but he shushed the younger one, but as the truck got closer, he realized that they weren't stopping and there were a lot more than he originally thought.

"Sam, get in the car." His hand tightened on the door. "Sam, now." This time Sam obeyed, and they both leaped into the car, and Dean started it, putting it into reverse and flooring it. The truck followed them, getting closer only when Dean forced the car to spin so they were facing the direction they were heading in. He glared into the rearview mirror as the red brake lights flashed, and the truck turned around, back on their tail almost. Dean increased Baby's speed, and his eyes flashed around the darkness. _There_ , that's what he was looking for. The car squealed around the corner to a stop, and he shoved it into reverse because he passed it. The car lurched backward as Dean shut off the lights and forced it into the place they had been before heading to Grandma's House.

He turned off the car, and both of the Winchesters waited in tense silence. The truck blasted past, but didn't turn around. It appears they gave the kids the slip. Sam was the first one to move, shifting in his seat so he could face Dean. His green eyes searched his older brother's face.

"We should go," stated Dean, and he started the car, turning on the lights, revealing a face directly at the windshield, and he automatically drove forward, and the creature rolled along the roof of the car and ended up behind them.

Up on the road, they turned in their seats as Sam asked. "What the hell was that?" Dean maneuvered the car so the lights were somewhat focused on the figure, but he would be able to leave if needed. They watched the figure rise and twitch violently, back hair concealing its face. The figure was dressed in white, which was as dirty as Dean's clothes had been before he woke up in that comfortable bed, which he wouldn't be able to make it back to tonight. He moved the shifter in reverse as a noise echoed through the night from the creature, and then, it darted toward the car at amazing speed, slamming into Sam's door, sending the car flying across the road, and when Dean managed to get the big tank in control, he sped backwards, watching as the thing almost keep pace with them.

Sam yelled out. "Dean!" The creature smashed into the front, hitting more to the right side, so the car spun.

Dean struggled to get it under control again, but the creature collided with the car another time, causing it to head off the road; it became airborne. "Hold on, Sammy." His hand grabbed hold of his brother's shoulder because neither one of them had their seatbelts on, and he didn't want to chance that Sam would shoot through the window. They both braced themselves on the dash, and they saw the water at the bottom of the hill behind a large tree. Dean lurched forward when they hit the tree, smashing his forehead against the steering wheel.

He lost consciousness for a few moments, and he could have sworn he felt hands pulling him by the collar, toward the shattered window, but he was released. When he finally got his bearings, he looked over to Sam, who was covered with glass and shaking. "D-Dean?"

Dean put his feet out wide so he didn't rock the car too much, making his way toward his young brother. "It's alright, Sammy." He placed a hand over the other's bloody hands. "We've made it through worse than this, right?" Sam nodded, and Dean nodded back once. "Do we have a flashlight somewhere here?" He released Sam, who opened the glove compartment, red smears covering parts of it. It sickened him that he let his brother get hurt _again_. He hid his annoyance at himself by taking the flashlight, and he looked for a moment then clicked on the button that turned it on. First, he checked over Sam's injuries and deemed him pretty much fine. "Alright, let's see where it went," he mumbled to himself, flicking the flashlight to each side.

"Is it gone?"

"Don't know." Then, he felt something. It felt like breath on his neck, and he whipped himself around and came face-to-face with pale-gray skin and milky white eyes. It hissed and scrambled out of the car. He turned his eyes to Sam, whose eyes revealed all the worry he was feeling. "Don't worry, we'll just stay inside the car, and flash that bitch when she comes a' knocking." He turned the light as a shadow crept near Sam's window. A hiss was the only thing they heard this time. They didn't see her at all. Dean wasn't sure if he liked that. He continuously swirled the flashlight beam around, enough that Sam said something about it.

Dean shrugged. It was this or meeting whatever it was. Sam patted his pockets for his phone.

"What are you doing, calling for help?"

"Yeah, I'm going to try to get ahold of Garth."

Dean bristled some. "Who the hell is Garth?"

"The new Bobby?"

 _What - what happened to Bobby?_ He grew cold. He died in this time, too. There wasn't any way to save the old grouch? He couldn't dwell on those questions because Sam asked him where his phone was.

"Mine's almost dead," he explained.

"I…" Dean paused. "What phone?" They didn't have phones in the apocalypse, heck they didn't really have walkie talkies all that much either.

"The one that was in your room. Come on, please tell you didn't leave it."

"Oh, okay then I won't."

"Dean," Sam groaned. "I think I can make one short call."

"Well do it." Dean heard scratching on the dirt beside his head, and he turned the light, shining the creature in the face, and it hissed.

"I don't have service."

"Fuck," growled Dean. "We'll have to get outside the car." He moved the light over his brother, and he saw the creature's hands making their way toward Sam. He jumped over to the window, which startled the creature, who darted to the back of the car. The two Winchesters kept an eye on it, and it just stared at the ground, twitching. It climbed on the trunk, jostling the car, and it crept toward them, all the while the light was on it. Dean faked a jump at it, and it hissed and dove outside the car. "See that, Sammy, even the monsters know when to back down."

Sam almost rolled his eyes, but instead, he moved toward the door. Dean went closer so that when they got out, they did it pretty much together. Dean prodded Sam toward two medium trees that were side by side, so that they had cover on their back. They both heard something running in the night, but Dean couldn't pinpoint where exactly until a grunt from Sam came from behind him and wheezing sounded a bit afterward. Dean swirled around, blinding the creature, who hissed and dropped Sam to his feet. Dean was at his side in a matter of seconds. "I-I'm fine, Dean. It just got me from between the trees. I didn't expect it." He coughed. Then, his eyes widened. "Dean."

Dean turned where Sammy was looking, and he brought the light over the creature, who skidded to a stop yards away from them. It twitched once, hissing loudly. He faked a jump at the creature, but it didn't move. He raised a brow at it as he took a step forward. It merely stayed put. After another step, it made another noise and rushed at him. He had already had his hand at his blade, so when it came at him, he swiped at it. It was so fast that it was behind him. "Get someone on the phone, I'll take care of Grudgy over here." He caught the creature in the back, and he leaped out of reach. "Come and get me, you wannabe zombie." He stumbled back up the hill to try to get away, but it easily caught him and threw him across the ground.

He grunted, laying on his stomach, and he pushed himself off the ground, but he was soon flying through the air again, this time landing on the car then falling off to land next to the back bumper.

"Hurry up, Sam!" He grunted out through his teeth. He lost the flashlight, as well as his blade, somewhere, but he couldn't think about that because hands forcibly grabbed hold of him and slammed him down over and over on the trunk. Let's say it was hard enough that the trunk cracked open the first hit. He hit again, eyes catching the glint of the weapons. _This is gonna hurt,_ he thought, _but whatever. Screw this thing,_ he was going to do it. He kicked the thing with all his might, sending the thing back a few feet.

Even though it wasn't far, it gave the desired response. It dropped him, and as he fell, he slipped an arm into the trunk, which dented the metal when he hit, and he grinded his teeth. He was going to feel that for awhile. He moved up to his feet just as the creature made that loud noise, and it sped his way, mouth open in a scream almost.

"You got a perdy mouth, but I'm not going to miss it." He swung, the weapon shattered and both flew sideways, Dean ended up on rolling onto the roof of the car. He managed to come to a halt before he went over into the water. The car complained, making Dean narrow his eyes. He wished that he could pull the car out, but he knew that was impossible. He turned his head to where Sam was, and what he saw made Dean nearly throw up. The creature had its hands all over Sam, who was struggling against the things strength. "Hey, you, yeah you, ugly. Hands off." He jumped across the car, and the creature threw Sam to the side, who smacked his head off a rock and began to roll down the hill. Dean narrowed his eyes, took out his gun, and shot it right in the middle of the forehead. He didn't give it time to come after him, and he skidded after Sam.

By its hissing, Dean knew it was still alive. He caught Sam before he reached the edge of the water, but he was up to water to the middle of his shins. He pulled his brother's arm over his shoulder and said his name to get his attention, but he was pretty much unresponsive, so Dean just supported the weight, hurrying up the hill. He couldn't hear the thing hissing, so he had no idea where it was until it was much too late. In fact, he only knew something was there because he heard Sam stammer out, "wa-watch out!"

The force in which it hit them with led them to end up on the other side of the street, his gun sliding all the way down the road almost. He was on his side, reaching for his gun, even if he knew that he would never reach it in time. He turned his head as he saw white lights coming from behind him. That's all he remembered, that and the creature approaching ever so slowly, dragging out the torture.

Then, his eyes opened, and it was daylight again. He lifted his cheek from the asphalt with one closed eye and a terrible headache. He looked around, and he noticed a 18 wheeler parked inches from his feet, and the driver's door opened. "Hey, ya'll alright?"

 _Ya'll?_ He pulled himself into a sitting position. He swayed.

"Easy now… at least you seem more responsive than your friend is."

 _Friend?_ "Oh shit." He scrambled up to his feet, regretting it as he was wrapped in tremendous pain. His eyes locked onto Sam's motionless body. He hid his limp the best he could as he made his way over. It was far too long to take for him though, for everyone else it would be pretty fast concerning what he had just been through. He checked his brother's pulse, and when he found it, he pulled the taller one up to his feet, slinging his arm over his own shoulders. He went over to the driver. "Can you take us to the hospital?" He practically spit out. If he said no, then Dean couldn't be responsible for his actions.

"Well, sure thing. I'm heading on South, so I'll drop you off. It's the closest ya can get to-"

"Yeah, whatever, thanks." He went to the side door and opened it. Shifting Sam's weight slightly, he forced the door all the way open.

"So if ya don't mind me askin' what's the story?"

"What story?" Dean eyed him, pausing from lifting Sam into the cab. "About the crash?"

"Nah, I was just wondering how you two-"

"You know we're brothers right?" He heaved up Sam, placing him in the middle.

"Oh, I'm sorry, it just…"

 _Really that's what he asks?_ Dean grumbled to himself. "Whatever, man, can we just go?" He said. However, he hesitated briefly, and he walked across the road, but his brows scrunched together. _Where the hell did it go?_ The car was missing and so was everything else. Okay, he understood if the small things were all missing, but the _car_? _Really?_ Wait, he thought he saw something. He went down the hill sideways almost until he reached the object. After he dug it out of the ground some, he wiped it off. It was Sam's phone. He checked the battery level. Just like Sam said, a call oughta do it, so he turned it off to conserve battery as much as possible.

"Ey kid, Imma be late if ya keep sticking 'round here, and your brother doesn't seem too healthy."

Dean steeled himself away and made the slow ascent and walk to the truck. He hopped in, bringing Sam more toward the middle so the driver could, well, drive easier without Sam being a hinderance. It took them around half an hour, and with each second passing, Dean began to fidget more, and after just a few minutes, Dean knew the driver could sense his anxiety, but he didn't say a word. No one did for the entire ride until they pulled into the hospital's parking lot.

After Sam and Dean got out, so after Dean jumped down from the truck, Sam followed when he pulled the unconscious one from the cab, Dean tilted his head in a thank you, which was returned with almost like a get well free card. Dean guessed that the man read that off a postcard. He means seriously? He just shook his head and carried his brother all the way to the front desk.

"He needs a doctor, right away," was all he said to the lady, who took in their appearance and nodded enthusiastically.

"R-Right away, sir."

They took Sam off his hands, more like tore Sam from his shoulder because… trust issues that's why. He stared after Sam for at least five minutes until he decided that he should sit down, but he was prevented in doing so. Apparently they wanted him checked too. He would have objected if he didn't see how one of those security officers were eyeing him a little too much for comfort. He tried to ignore the look and follow after the nurse to his room, and since he wasn't too injured, he wasn't even on the same floor as Sam. He was wondering if Sam was going to make it the whole time.

. . . .

His nurse looked over at him as she finished checking his blood pressure.

"Hey, name's Dean." He gave her one of his brightest smiles, which made her blush red. "You new here?" She nodded her head, and Dean tilted his head a bit. "Could have fooled me."

They got talking for a bit, and per usual, Dean was flirting with expertise. Just before he got her number, the doctor arrived and shooed her out. With a wink from Dean, she smiled and left the room.

"Cute, guess I know why you keep her around, Doc."

The doctor's mouth twitched in anger. "I'm not sure what you're hinting at Mister…" He glanced at the clipboard in his hands. "... Mr. Singer, but I only employ the best around."

Dean put his elbows on his knees. "Alright, whatever you say there doc." They both stared at one another, the Doctor becoming increasingly enraged and Dean just smiling like he wasn't doing anything. "So, eh, what's up doc?" He shifted so he was sitting up straighter. "Clear to go?"

"No, both of you need to remain the night. Your brother will probably have to stay longer."

"Why?" He raised one brow. He understood that Sam would need a longer stay than himself, but why did _he_ need to stay?

"Well, first of all, your brother is in critical condition, and we're unsure if he'll survive tomorrow. He is very ill and badly injured."

That made his insides slow to a crawl. _What?_ He tried to ask, but his mouth was clamped shut. Sam couldn't die… Dean's head was swimming, so he really wasn't paying attention.

"As for you, I'm quite concerned as well. It seems that you have constant injuries that were left unmended by a professional. Also, you have wounds that would have left most dead a long time ago." He grabbed hold of the x-rays from his clipboard, placing it up and turning on the light so Dean could see it. "There's at least three critical wounds, here, here, and here. Then, there's…" His voice continued to drone on and on.

Dean wasn't listening at all. Sam could die tomorrow, and Dean had been such a dick to him. Now he felt he deserved all those hits that the creature dished out and then some. He had it coming if he couldn't be there for ones he loved, which was only Sam that was alive at the moment, and he might as well as helped kill Sam. He hadn't been paying enough attention to where the thing was, and he didn't keep an eye out for his little brother, and being alone for the most part in the apocalypse was no excuse. He clasped his hands together, placing his thumbs in between his eyebrows. The doctor's voice went on, explaining injuries and whatnot that didn't matter to him at all.

"You are very lucky, Dean Singer." The doctor finished, turning to his patient, who removed his hands from his face with a blank expression that actually unnerved the Doctor.

"Lucky," he echoed. "If that's what you call it." Dean stated lowly.

The doctor's eyes betrayed his thoughts, making Dean turn away and glance out the window. It was obvious the doctor was perhaps thinking Dean caused this to himself or maybe Sam was to blame, but it would never be that kid. The true Sam wouldn't cause Dean so much harm unless he deserved it, and even then he might not do anything. But he felt like he deserved it.

He turned his eyes back at the doctor. "Hey, you have a laptop I can borrow?"

* * *

 _ **(Next time: Take Me Away From All This**_ _ **)**_


	4. Chapter 3

_**(Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. Any constructive criticism is appreciated.)**_

 _ **Summary: AU (from apocalypse to bunker) Dean thought that it just couldn't get any worse, but let's say, moving along in time was not what he expected, especially by an angel he never expected to see again. Haunted by his past and the future -with all the secrets & uncertainties- Dean will have to try to adjust to everything thrown his and Sam's way and then Cass' way later on. No pairings. (I don't think they'll be any pairings, but I have no idea if that'll remain that way.)**_

 **Chapter 3: Take Me Away From All This**

 **. . . .**

Sam remembered some time ago when it was just him and Dean in the motel room, and they had waited for their father to come home; it was the same every night. He'd go out hunting and leave the two of them to fend for themselves. He had never liked to be there. It was cramped, and he was forbidden to go outside. He discovered much later on that that had been partially why he didn't want to be a hunter. He was being forced into the "family business," as Dean dubbed it once. It stuck with the younger of the two, even now, but Sam wasn't sure what Dean and him were fighting for now.

To save people? Yeah, he understood that, but he wasn't sure whether or not they were helping. Usually he knew for certain that he was doing what was right, but he always wished that they had a life that didn't revolve around hunting, fighting, and killing. He wondered if he could get back out again, but he didn't want to leave his brother. It would be like a betrayal to Dean, even if Dean allowed him to have that "apple pie life."

Sam used to want it so much that it hurt. He could have been a lawyer, and maybe he could have married Jess or maybe stay with one of the others like Sarah or Amelia (Richardson, the vet). Dean always called him a big sap, and Sam guessed he was right. He would have loved to be normal like the rest of the people at school, but he had to get it through his head that it wasn't going to happen. He had to realize that his brother was family, so he couldn't abandon him, and he wouldn't, no matter what mood Dean was in.

He sure would like to walk away at times, sometimes they did, but the brothers would be back hunting together, and through everything, his older brother was there for him. Every single time he was in trouble, Dean was there to brush him off. Every time their father wasn't near, Dean tried to make the best of it for Sam. He was the one that took that hit for Sam, and Sam just wanted to be able to return the favor as much as he could, just like last night before they stumbled upon the creature's woods.

He had noticed the difference in his brother as soon as he went into Dean's room that first morning. He was sweating and super pale, stumbling and swaying. He had expected that Dean was going to collapse, but he didn't, so he left Dean and waited for him to come out. It took him a long time, and when he did reach the kitchen, he noticed little things about his brother that were off. Sure he had a similar personality, but he seemed to be weighed down by something big, and when he burst through that door at the home for the elderly, he saw pure rage, and that topped everything else. His brother hadn't been the cheeriest person ever, but he had never seen Dean that over the top (even as a demon or with the Mark on his arm), and he didn't hope for it even on their worst enemies because if he didn't stop Dean from acting out, he may not ever get him back. It was almost like Sam could sense an _unstableness_ in his older brother. He couldn't quite explain what it was, but he wasn't exactly the Dean he had been earlier in the week.

To sum it up, Sam was worried about Dean… more than usual, even if Sam was the one deadly ill. He knew he was sick, but he didn't know much more than that. He could hear voices, but he could never make any sense of them until one voice broke through his disordered brain. "Alright, Sam, I'll try it your way… We'll have your chick flick moment, okay?" It sounded lost, depressed. His voice muffled substantially, and Sam couldn't understand any more of it now until he heard the voice again, but this time it was wavering. "I guess it comes all down to this, Sammy. You die, and I'm left here again. You know this should be fine after everything… But it's not. You're just going to die now, aren't you? They said that you'd be lucky to live to tomorrow, maybe there's something that we could do… Probably not…" Something smashed open; it sounded like glass shattering.

 _Dean, what do we do now?_

. . . .

Sam still heard screaming and crashing.

 _"What the hell?!"_ Dean's voice pierced all of the noise, and Sam would have flinched at how loud it was by his ears if he could move. Something must have exploded because Sam felt extremely and uncomfortably hot. Heat covered his skin, bubbling beneath it, and Sam wished he could scream, but he was forced into an immovable position. "SAM," Dean's voice echoed from far away, and then Sam heard his brother scream out something, but it was muffled again. He didn't want to lose his hearing yet. He had to make sure everyone was alright.

"He can only fight this himself, Dean." A voice cut in, but it was far too gone for him to determine who it was.

"You keep fighting, Sammy." There was Dean again, and Sam reached to grasp the voice, so he could understand it. "Don't give up, alright? Don't…" The voice faded, and Sam could feel walls crumbling around him. He wasn't sure if that was actually happening or he wasn't fighting as strong as he needed to.

He gave a silent promise as the voices droned around his head. It was simple, but not at the same time. He was going to try to keep fighting, but it was so hard. The air felt like it was sizzling, and Sam couldn't breathe.

 _I don't think I can._

. . . .

He was so hungry, so thirsty, so… tired. He couldn't push his body any more, but he didn't want to give in. He was about to let go; he was so close, but then Dean's voice broke through the silence. _"Fix him!"_

All the force between those two words startled Sam, and he felt his eyes wanting to blink and shed light to the darkness, but instead the urge blinked away. He would have frowned if he could.

How do you fix something like this? What do you do?

"It's just a really bad sickness, Dean. He can handle it."'

"Do you see him, he looks terrible, and look at that mark? Huh? You think he wasn't bit?"

"Yes, I do, because he didn't change."

"What the hell is that then?"

Sam wanted to know the answer too, but it never came to his ears as a screech echoed throughout his eardrums. Pain coursed through his body, and he gritted his teeth. He could swear he could smell much better now, but he could be imagining it. He seemed dirt, antiseptic, and blood.

It was so much, especially when another round of pain shot through him; it was like a train smashed into him, shattering him to pieces. However, the agony refused to pause. It almost reminded him of the torture in the Cage- in only a few ways but still. He just wanted it to end.

. . . .

Then, coldness reached his limbs, pushing the suffocating heat at bay. "Sam, come on man, wake up." It was Dean again, so far away, drifting even more. Sam inhaled deeply when he realized the heat wasn't choking him anymore. He couldn't smell as well though, but he thought he could feel the sheets beneath his body. If he was lucky, in this state, he would die. He'd rather die like this than in the pain that seemed to be numbing to a dull ache.

"Now you can leave." Was that for him? Sam wasn't sure, but all he knew was that statement intended no arguing. Did his brother want him to leave? Sam knew he did terrible things to Dean, but he never thought Dean would take it to heart. Dean himself said it didn't matter to him, but was this Dean from Monday or from yesterday?

He just didn't know, so he thought it best to give in because like before, Dean was the part of him that would have kept him _fighting_ for life. He guessed Bobby could hold the reigns for now. He decided to try to let go. Perhaps this time for good? He wasn't sure if this was the right choice, but he could _try_. Maybe he could see Jess or Mom up there, if Heaven was truly Heaven, and Sam didn't head downstairs instead.

"It's up to him now, Dean. It's not in my hands, but if you wish, I could try again."

Sam and Dean answered the same way, "no," or at least Sam did. He was far too gone anyway. The coolness crept into the rest of his body, and he settled in it. The pain ebbed away next. He didn't want to die, but like Dean said:

"Some things are worse than a gunshot." This was his gunshot.

* * *

 _ **(Next Time: Death Won't Win, I Promise You, Sam**_

 _ **Can you guess what happens next? By the way, I have the next chapter written, so I can put it up for whoever wants it. Personally, I think the fic starts to get a little better soon, but who knows.)**_


	5. Chapter 4

_**(Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. What do you all think so far?)**_

 _ **Summary: AU (from apocalypse to bunker) Dean thought that it just couldn't get any worse, but let's say, moving along in time was not what he expected, especially by an angel he never expected to see again. Haunted by his past and the future -with all the secrets & uncertainties- Dean will have to try to adjust to everything thrown his and Sam's way and then Cass' way later on.**_

 **Chapter 4: Death Won't Win, I Promise You, Sam**

 **. . . .**

He grabbed hold of the laptop that the Doctor offered; it had taken him quite a bit of talking and snide remarks - yes he meant snide- to get what he wanted. He placed the laptop on his bed that he had to stay in for the night, removing - more like ripping- the sling from his right arm after he was left alone. He began researching the creature because he knew that he'd have to go after it again, but by the time the sun started to set, Dean was fed up with looking for what the creature was. He couldn't just sit there and wait for Sam to die. He deserved to have family near him, so Dean stood from his bed and went to the door, pressing his ear against the wall.

He didn't hear footsteps nearby, and he chanced a look outside. No one was within view or the ones that were would be far too busy doing their "Dr. Sexy MD" things. It has really been awhile since he watched that show or any really. He walked down the white hallways, ducking behind a wall when needed or hiding behind a moving cart when no one paid attention to it. If it was down the hall, _whoops._ He didn't even know what room Sam occupied. He went to the elevator and paused. He was debating if they would move him to the second floor. He was soon answered when the elevator opened and a screaming man rushed out.

He got inside as everyone ran frantically the opposite way. He hit the "2" button, which was the only other floor in the place, and as the doors pulled shut, he braced himself for anything, and he meant anything, like... _Lucifer_ anything. At his floor, it binged to announce its arrival, and when the doors pulled apart, Dean first noticed all of the chaos. Everyone was in a blind panic, heading for the two available elevators, and Dean had to lean against the wall to prevent himself from getting crushed underfoot. After the crowd had to wait for the next elevator to come up, Dean took this time to sprint down the hall, which was when he realized another thing: it was pretty dark here, and of course it stung to run with his injuries, but he could only guess who their late visitor was so his injuries felt unimportant at the moment.

Once again, he found that he was disgusted at the human race for how they reacted to fear. They killed one another, if on accident, because all they thought about was their own survival. Some things never changed it seemed. He shook his head angrily, speed increasing as he found a source of loud screaming. It was a woman, and her screams were long, drawn out, and at times, somewhat frantic, and she was staring at the black-haired creature, who twitched when Dean burst into the room. It hissed at him, and he just gently put a hand on the woman's shoulder. She stiffened, but her screams subsided when he spoke. "Relax, you'll be fine, just head toward the exit." He propelled her toward the door, eyes briefly turning away from the creature before him. "I'll handle this." His full attention turned to the interior of the room as the woman scampered off.

Of course, it was in Sam's room, right by his bedside. He snarled. "Step away from the bed, bitch." The thing purposely stretched her fingers over Sam's neck, and it suddenly grabbed hold of him, and Dean saw Sam cough and sputter. "SAM," he shouted and sprang forward, shoulder connecting with the creature, who dropped Sam back on the bed and crashed through the window. The creature crawled back into the room on all fours, body twisting and mutating slightly. Dean raised a brow at it, as it stood back onto its feet. It made a loud noise, which Dean knew was what it did before it attacked.

He had learned that last night- the hard way- so he responded with grabbing the closest thing he had to a weapon and chucked it at its face. Unfortunately the weapon of choice was an empty box, which he found out as he threw it. However, he took the smallest distraction as a good one, so he yanked the bed, along with everything else away from the window. He was glad that all the equipment that Sam needed was on his side of the bed, so when he pulled the bed, it followed. Then, he placed his body between the bed and the creature, who was focused intently on him, and he asked. "Are we just going to stare at each other all night because I'd let you win that one." He shrugged. "Plus, you're not my type. You're too fugly. I prefer your type to die, especially when you target my family, so… I'm not so sorry about this but-"

Dean's body whipped to the side, smashing to the floor. He lifted his face off the ground with a shake of his head and narrowing of his green eyes. He jumped to his feet just as he heard the noise from the window, but when he turned there, it was nowhere to be found. He searched the room, and he saw a shadow at the foot of Sam's bed. Dean studied the figure that crept toward him on all fours again, taking its sweet time to slink over to him. He paused as it reached into the moonlight, and he couldn't stop himself from saying, "What the hell?" It started out a simple question, but it raised in volume toward the end when the creature launched itself at him. He stumbled back, getting slammed into the wall at least twice until he shoved it off as hard as he could. It went back a step, so Dean swung his right fist straight into its face.

It stumbled another time, ending up closer to Sam's bed, so Dean swirled around the creature, slamming it with another fist in the side of its head. It was just his luck that the creature sidestepped him and his fist hit the wall. For a moment, he gripped his hand and let out air from his nose. That _frigging hurt._ He turned around, and he froze. Red flooded out of Sam's neck, and he watched the blood drip and drip… and … drip. From his neck, from the creature's hands to the white tiles beneath Sam.

And he lost it. He yanked the creature overhead, forcing it to the ground, and roughly tugged it back up to its feet. He tightened his hands and sent both of them, first right then left. Right, left, left, left, right, right, right, right, left, Right. _RIGHT!_ Red formed on his knuckles, but he couldn't stop his attacking. Liquid came out of the creature's mouth as he continued his assault, punching it in the face over and over again, but then he was on his back, staring at the ceiling.

He heard the thing hiss, but he raised his head and saw nothing until he felt breath on the top of his head. He forced himself to roll up to his feet, and the sight that welcomed him made him back up a foot. The creature made its signature noise and turned its body, so it was all sorts of wrong, and it sprinted forward. It was going too fast; he wouldn't be able to do anything, so he braced himself and closed his eyes at the last second. He heard something squawk against the floor, but other than that, it was still.

. . . .

Dean finally opened his eyes, meeting with just Sam's bed, Sam, and the shattered window. Somehow, he was sitting in a chair across from Sam's bed that was still pulled into the middle of the room. His eyes caught the trickle of blood, and he bent his head down to rest in his hands. "Sammy…" He frowned a bit, head pounding in his skull and making it difficult to process anything. "Alright, Sam, I'll try it your way, we'll have your chick flick moment, okay?" He was going to lose his baby brother again, wasn't he? He mumbled to the unconscious Winchester. "You have to keep fighting man. You gotta keep fighting." He paused. "Sam?"

His brother didn't respond or move, and Dean looked to his bloody hands. He was far too late to save Sam, _again._ Why couldn't he do his damn job? Maybe _He_ had been right- He silenced those thoughts as quick as they came, and he decided to look at his brother. He watched as Sam struggled to take in air, gasping some.

He sighed, hand shakily combing through his short locks. "Alright, I guess I should start then. You probably won't hear any of this, but here goes… Sam, you and I… No, that's not it. I guess I just don't have your emotional abilities, huh?" He chuckled weakly. It died in his throat, and tears swam in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. "I don't know what you want from me, Sam. You want me to spill how everything in my life was reduced to the Devil's playground? Or how everything around me dies? Awesome, right? Of course, I think so too." He rolled his eyes to lighten up the mood, but it grew dark again. "It's just fucking peachy, a real place to visit on the holidays; it's actually about the same as now. I've never noticed how you lose something you never had or if you had it years ago, and when it's ripped apart, everything goes with it."

He paused, rubbing his face.

"You're going to die, plain and simple Sam." And he blamed himself. He wasn't fast enough or strong enough. "So basically I guess I'm saying, well… Uh, I guess it comes all down to this, Sammy. You die, and I'm left here again. You know this should be fine after everything… But it's not. You're just going to die now, aren't you? They said that you'd be lucky to live to tomorrow, maybe there's something that we could do… Probably not…"

Dean made a face, taking out Sam's phone, clutching it like a lifeline. "Maybe I can get you better, we've done it before, so why not now, huh?" He wasn't rooting for it, but he could ask this Garth person for help in finding a cure if Sam was bitten, if that's how it worked or what not, and he'd have to trust that the doctors will try everything to get Sam back. _That's a fat chance,_ muttered his brain, doubting they'd care to try to fix him. They already said he was dead tomorrow, so why'd it matter if it happened earlier. He turned on the phone, noting the battery. The call had to be quick.

He went into the contacts.

. . . .

He didn't know why he did it, but he was desperate, and it was there. It was also much better than calling someone. Texting was quicker, but why'd he choose _that_ contact? _Because you need him to save Sam._ Dean gritted his teeth together. He hated how he had to rely on an angel of all things, but he couldn't just let Sam die. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he idly sat by. The guilt was already there from letting it happen in the first place. He should have kept that thing in his sight at all times.

His fingers tightened on Sam's phone as his eyes clenched closed. _Why the hell isn't he showing up? Frigging Angels, that's why._ His shoulders shook some, and he rested his arms on his legs, hanging his head. His eyes wavered as he watched his brother wheeze and twitch in his sleep on the bed that was around the middle of the room still, and that's how he stayed until morning.

. . . .

Sam had been moved to a better room, which was an oxymoron really. It wasn't better or at least they all looked the same to Dean; there was the same layout in every single room, except for a few who personalized them if they were staying there long term. He glanced sideways as he stared at his brother. He didn't need the monitor to tell him that Sam was getting worse - much worse. His breathing was erratic, sometimes he thought Sam wouldn't begin breathing again.

When he had tried to move his brother, he felt as if he was in an inferno with the flames licking at his hands. He had to force himself not to drop the Sasquatch on the floor. After what took forever for Dean, Sam was moved to at least a holeless room, while his old one was "boarded off" for cleaning and construction. He had been allowed to remain with Sam when they found him sitting in the chair, staring at the phone in his hands, and the woman from before gave her account of what happened. Something along the lines that he saved her- not quite- but he could remain. That was all he wanted other than Sam to frigging survive this, but he was helpless all over again. He frowned, eyes shifting away from his younger brother.

This couldn't be the end of the line, yet it was. He was at a dead end with no one to turn to. He already tried to find a way to help Sam because he was sure the creature bit him. With all that blood, it was hard not to. Let's just say the bleeding had refused to stop, so the doctors just wrapped up his neck and parted with a saddened look at the oldest Winchester brother. He didn't want their pity; he wanted Sam back, what he always wanted from the beginning of the apocalypse. His eyes studied the floor now as his thoughts drifted toward the apocalypse again. He was walking ahead of the group and told them to speed up. Lucifer was hot on their tails, so he had pushed them almost as fast as they could do. Well, they kept pace with him at least. He was rushing, he knew everyone could tell something was up, but they knew better than to say anything, so they continued forward.

It had been a few weeks after Sam became simply a meat suit for the Devil, so being the leader was really difficult, especially with the turmoil stuck in his head. _Sam…_ He couldn't get over how his brother allowed Lucifer into his head. What had made him do it? Was it Dean's fault? He didn't know, so he had shaken his head and shouted again for them to pick up the pace until they were running after him. He ran so much that his feet hurt, and his people were lagging behind. "Dean, wait up." That was Chuck, who had been the first addition to Dean's "team." Dean didn't hear him and kept going. Their footsteps went distant, and then- only then- did he slow to a walk. He wasn't sure where they were heading.

It - no he- has been like that, walking in a direction that he didn't know where he was going. He didn't like it, but he couldn't help it. He was confused, unsure, and dizzy. It was probably some sickness that he didn't register. That tended to happen in the apocalypse because of the lack of medical supplies and the easy spread of germs. You would have thought that it would be slightly difficult with the population's sharp declines, but it wasn't. But it was a time of war, so it was expected to happen eventually. Fortunately, he had gotten over his sickness in a matter of days after that, and after that he was forced to stop walking. It wasn't because his group wanted to rest, which they did, but it was the fact that he himself couldn't really keep going. Everyone had thought the worse when the sickness came back the second time, but luckily relief came, and he pressed forward.

Dean felt that ache now, but it was slightly different. This time he knew that what he was feeling wasn't illness, and he knew time wouldn't slam the brakes on this one. He leaned his forehead against his hands. You'd think he'd be used to this feeling. It haunted him day in and day out, only numbing a bit when he first showed up here. Suddenly, he heard the door open up, and he expected the doctor to show up with worse news, such as Sam becoming whatever that creature was. _Oh yeah, you're brother is a wendigo, congratulations it's a monster!_ Dean's teeth clenched together. He wouldn't wish that at all. Instead of hearing the doctor walk in, he barely heard anything, so he raised his head and glanced over, breath catching in his throat.

His body didn't know how to react. He was in between attacking him and shaking him. He decided to not do anything except stand and keep his distance, eyes drawn to the familiar figure. They were calculating for a split second and then furious, and he couldn't help himself. He was in front of him, and he yanked the angel to the wall, hand gripping the angel's collar. "Where the hell did you send me, you son of a bitch?"

He blinked blue eyes at him, owlishly. "What do you mean, Dean?"

"Don't be stupid, angel," he snapped, jostling the other a bit when he moved his arm. "You know what I'm talking about."

The other squinted his eyes in confusion. "... I'm not certain that… I follow…" The angel paused, looking over Dean's face. "You're different," commented the angel, eyes searching still.

Dean suddenly realized something. He realized that this Cass wasn't the one that sent him here, so he dropped Cass' shirt, and he just glared. "Yeah, of fucking course I am Cass. I'm not from here.."

"No, that's not what I mean."

"What?" His brow raised up.

"You're... exceptionally different."

The Winchester's eyebrows scrunched together. "What the hell are you talking about?" He shook his head, grabbing hold of the angel's arm roughly and tugged him across the room to Sam's bed. "Fix him," he commanded sharply.

However, the angel just continued watching Dean. "I wonder…"

"Fix him." He told him again. They were running out of time, and Cass needed to get his ass in gear. The blue eyes were still studying him, so he huffed. "Yeah, I'm different than the other Dean, now can you get along with your angel mojo? Sam's in a bit of a hurry."

Cass went to open his mouth again, but Dean growled lowly, ordering him to fix Sam once again. He turned his eyes over to Sam, whose breath was catching for the umteenth time. "What happened?"

"Car crash," Dean crossed his arms and gave him a short summary. "Ugly creature bitch. Sam got hurt."

"So didn't you," Cass commented slowly.

He just narrowed his eyes. "I'm fine. Sammy's the one that got bit." _Because you weren't paying attention_ , his thoughts accused him. If Sam died now, he didn't know what he would do; he guessed he'd just add it to the list of let downs. He shook his head to clear it before he was transported back there - not literally of course- figuratively. He caught the angel staring at him again; this time his head tilted. The conscious brother bristled. "For the love of-"

"He wasn't bit." The blue-eyed gaze traveled over to rest on the taller Winchester and frowned slightly. "It's just a really bad sickness, Dean. He can handle it."

An eyebrow cocked up instantly, and his hands dropped to his side. "Do you see him? He looks terrible." He stepped forward, grabbing the wrap around Sam's neck a little more forcefully than he wanted, and tugged it down to reveal the wound. "And look at that mark. Huh. You think he wasn't bit?" He dropped the bandage when the other spoke.

"Yes, I do, because he didn't change."

"What the hell is that then?" He was obviously referring to the state Sam was in.

Blue eyes returned to the intense green ones. "A sickness. It is rare and can be deadly…" Dean was skeptical, so Cass added. "Did you see the creature bite him, Dean?"

He thought about it, shifting his weight to the opposite foot. "No," he answered. "But-"

"Do you see any teeth marks?"

"It's hard to see ain't it?" He snapped, eyes watching as red blood was already covering the wound.

The angel was unfazed and went forward. "Then you don't know if it was the creature that did this. Like I said, it's just a deadly illness."

"Fine, whatever it is, undo it."

"He can only fight this himself, Dean."

He wanted to strangle the angel even more now; instead he grabbed him by the arm, flinging him face-to-face with an extremely pissed older brother. "I swear _angel_ , if he dies…" His words trailed off as he fought his tongue. That's definitely not what he needed; he didn't need Cass to disappear and leave Sam, so he shoved down what he wanted to threaten and forced himself not to deck him straight in the jaw. His hand itched to do so, but his eyes caught as Sam's chest stopped moving, rising up in a slow crawl. "I - He can't die." Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see the angel scrutinizing him. It had the hair on the back of his neck stand up, and he felt like the angel was rummaging in his head. He cleared his throat. He hated that feeling, even if it wasn't really there. It was like he was under a microscope.

"He won't."

Dean tensed as he watched, concerned that Cass would harm Sam even more, but that wasn't the main problem. His trust issues needed to be on the backburner for now. He just hoped Sam would be saved. _Damn, that angel was taking forever._ The heart monitor, which had been kind of constant as of late albeit unreasonably fast, began to flatline. His hands tightened as his eyes drilled into the line on the monitor, the noise echoing off the walls in the room. He was losing Sam all over again. His arm twitched in response to his muscles tensing. It stung; well, it was his right one, the one he smashed against the back of the car and slammed into the wall, so that would explain the amount of pain.

The noise abruptly stopped, and Dean found his eyes on Cass, who seemed to back away from Sam, eyes concentrating on the rise of Sam's body, which rose with better fluency than the entire previous night. He relaxed slightly, glad, but it was crushed, and Cass ruined his mood.

"It's up to him. Dean," he said his name to get him to look over at him. "It's not in my hands, but if you wish, I could try again."

"No," was his immediate answer. "But now you can leave."

Cass blinked some at him. Then, his brows came together. "I don't wish to leave. I want to make sure Sam's alright."

Dean ignored him pretty much, heading over to Sam's side and glancing him over. He seemed to regain some life in him; he wasn't as white as the bedsheet anymore. He placed a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Sam? Come on man, wake up." After no response, he sighed and let his brother go. _Keep fighting Sammy. Don't give up. Alright. Don't you dare-_ He tore his eyes from the sleeping form when he felt eyes on his back. He eyed the angel. "What do you want? You can go, you know."

The angel looked puzzled.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Fine, thanks for saving Sam, but he's good, so vamanos."

"I'm staying."

Dean didn't even blink, just crossed his arms. _Oh really?_ He was prevented from speaking when he heard Sam groan beside him, and he turned to look over, watching as green eyes were revealed.

Sam rose up into a sitting position, holding his head, seemingly groggy. "What… the hell happened?"

Dean made sure he didn't try to sit up anymore. "Easy, Sam. Anything hurt?"

Sam leaned back down, head throbbing. "Ju-just my head…"

He smiled thinly. "You can't hurt that any, so don't worry about it."

"Ha ha, very funny." Sam made a face at his older brother.

"Yeah, not one of my best, I'll admit." Dean cautiously studied how Sam closed his eyes, and they fluttered open again after some time. "Get some sleep will ya, you'll need that beautyrest." He teased half-heartedly.

"I'm good, Dean."

"Yeah sure you are." He rolled his eyes. For some reason, he tensed some, most likely from the stare directly on him. "Quit it." He barked out at the angel.

Sam finally seemed to notice their addition in the room because he brightened faintly. "Hey Cass. What are you doing here?"

Cass went to the bedside, making Dean straighten subconsciously. "I got your message… Well, messages would be more accurate."

"Wait. What messages?" Sam asked.

Cass pulled out his phone, handing it over.

"I didn't send these, Cass." Sam raised a brow at the message content. All eyes turned to Dean, who shrugged a shoulder.

"I was trying to sound like Sam."

"Dean, I don't write hearts."

"I thought you would. You are all emotional and sappy, so it fits."

It was Sam's chance to roll his eyes. "Yeah, I'm sure that's why you wrote it." A smirk formed on the younger's face.

Dean blinked. "What?" He scowled. "Shut your face." Sam looked like he was about to add more, but Dean turned toward the door. He thought he heard Sam chuckle. _There was no way in hell…_ He growled and brushed past the angel, face darkening. He would never ever like an angel, especially _that_ one. He had heard enough, and since Cass wanted to see Sam so bad, he was going outside. He was out in the parking lot when he realized he had a follower. His glare grew more ugly with each step. "Stop following me," he ordered sharply, irritated. He whirled around, glare that could freeze Hell present on his face. He hesitated slightly then backed up a step, so he had more space between himself and the angel.

"You don't seem to like me very much."

"Oh really, what gave you that idea, _angel_?" Dean practically hissed angel out; it was what usually came out when he said it.

Cass answered the rhetorical question with a question of his own. "What did I do to make you so angry?" He tilted his head to the side, eyes squinting as he looked at Dean, whose eye twitched.

 _What did you do? A whole hell of a lot of nothing, you son of a bitch._ The Winchester's hands formed fists by his sides.

"Then why are you so annoyed-"

"Get the hell out of my head!" Apparently, this Cass didn't know that his head was also considered "personal space" either.

"Will you tell me why you… what's the phrase…" He glanced up as if searching for an answer, then looked back to the other's face. "'Hate my guts'?"

Dean wanted to shout at him and throw him to the ground. He wanted to tear him apart, so no, he didn't think the correct phrase was that one. He didn't just hate the angel's guts; he hated everything about all angels- archangels definitely at the top of the list, only under Cass, who disappeared and betrayed both Sam and himself. Everything came to the surface of his mind, and it built up, and like when a dam broke, it all flowed out. "I don't know maybe it has something to do with you being a frigging coward or maybe it was because you left me with cleaning up the apocalypse or how about when you helped start the damn thing, huh? That was real awesome, man."

"What do you mean-"

He was caught off by Dean who continued. "Shut up Cass, I'm talking." Cass went silent, but his silent anger was present, almost reaching his face. "You just left Sam; you let Lucifer parade around in his head. You didn't give a damn, and then you fucking disappeared. How do you think that looks, huh?"

"I wouldn't have done that, Dean."

He laughed drily. "Well, you did, you son of a bitch."

"I think I would know how I would react-"

"Fine, then you tell me what happened? Oh wait, you fucking can't… You're just like all of the rest of them." He crossed his arms, eyes sending a glare the other's way, who returned the look. "You did all that shit for your own benefit. None of you cared about-"

"I did." Cass said sternly.

"You did a great job showing it." He cocked a brow at him. "Because I'm pretty sure you let this whole thing ride out. You didn't try to stop it when it was happening." He had saved them once, but that's the only time he could recall, which could be limited by the rage making its way into him, bending his frame straight and tense. Any second now he could lunge, he was certain.

"In this time, _we_ did try to stop it." Dean blinked slightly, letting Cass speak further. "I was going along with the other angels until you, Dean, told me that it wasn't right. I helped you and Sam; I killed my brothers and my sisters, all because of you. I went against the word of God, for you and your brother." His eyes narrowed more at the last part. "And you really think I'd simply walk away?"

"No," he answered swiftly. _"I know."_

Blue eyes flashed faintly at him. "I know that the Winchesters' problems come first, Dean, and I know that I would not turn my back on either of you."

"Then what did you do? Because that's all I can think of."

"You think I betrayed you," he questioned, shock edging onto his face for a split second.

Dean just glared for a moment. "What would you have thought?"

"I wouldn't betray-"

"You keep saying that, but I can't trust you." He gritted his teeth some. "Because I know damn right that you left us all behind. You-"

"How do you know I left? It's possible that I went after Lucifer and didn't survive. But you never thought of that, did you? It was always about you and Sam." The angel was attempting to keep his head, but the anger was boiling beneath the surface.

Dean scoffed. "You were nowhere in sight when I showed up. There was only Sam and the major dick inside him - possessing him. Yet, there was no other angel. Nothing was there but Lucifer; there wasn't even Sam anymore." That hurt to say aloud, but he hid it by growling lowly. "You abandoned us for what? Saving your own ass?"

Cass looked like he was going to snap at him, but then he paused, tilting his head. The annoyance rose to his face again. "Ever think that I never left you?"

Both of his eyebrows shot up. "You did leave."

Cass tilted his head more, eyes still squinting in question. "You don't know, do you?"

"Know what," he snapped in response. "Know that you're a fucking liar? Yeah I know that already."

The angel frowned a bit. "I only lied and deceived you and your brother when needed."

"Oh, that's a great confidence builder, way to have no filter there Cass."

"At least you know I'm telling you the truth." Irritation sparked in his eyes as Dean shrugged.

"Not really, it's hard to tell with cold-hearted angels."

Cass' eye twitched some. "Dean," he said exasperatedly. "You were too busy blaming me that you didn't watch yourself-"

"Are you saying that this is my fault?" The Winchester bit out.

"No. I'm not saying that. I'm saying that you need to stop looking at me like I'm your enemy; we're on the same side, even back then."

"Yeah, sure thing, dick. I'll get right on it." He was surprised when Cass realized that he was being sarcastic, and Dean only knew the angel's feelings because his eyes narrowed and his feet moved forward a step. Dean responded by pulling his hands to his sides, fists forming. "What are you going to do, huh angel?" He snarled, both glaring each other down.

Cass opened his mouth to speak, but another voice replaced it, and it wasn't deep, so Dean was caught off guard, searching for the voice. "Hello, Dean," a feminine voice greeted.

Dean looked over, shoving his anger of angels off his face when he noticed it was the nurse from before. "Hey."

Apparently she could sense the tension between the two because she hesitated. Then her gaze swept over the two, noting their proximity to one another and the tension that still seemed to roll off them, in the air and in their postures, despite Dean's change of face. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything because-"

Dean blinked and faked a smile. "What? No- hell no. You're good." Cass didn't seem to know what was going on if his head tilt- eye squint thing was anything to go by.

"Oh, I just assumed that since you two were arguing and…" She giggled lightly. "Nevermind. Here." She gave Dean a piece of paper. It was obviously her number. She waved after she gave her quick farewell.

After she disappeared around a corner, Dean crinkled up the paper and shoved it into his pocket.

"Are you going to call her?" Cass asked in curiousity. He rarely saw Dean say no to a pretty human female.

"No," was the straight reply, no hesitation. He wasn't in the mood, and he wasn't too keen on getting together with anyone. He already had too much on his plate. _Man, I could really use a drink._ This registered in his head suddenly, but unfortunately, he was shit out of luck, and his anger seized him once more as he gazed at the angel. He wasn't done shouting at him.

"Why not?"

Okay, that question threw him slightly. It was unexpected, so Dean made a face that asked _really?_ He was probably diverting his attention from firing insults at the angel. "Does it matter?"

"Yes."

 _Why?_ He sighed loudly; he could have mentally cursed Heaven at that moment at least five times. "I think there's much more important things than this."

"Like-"

"Like Sam," he gritted out.

"Oh yes, who else."

Dean wasn't sure if that was meant to be rude or that he just figured it out, but Dean took it in the negative anyway. "What's wrong with Sam?"

"I didn't…" He shook his head once. It was a human movement he learned when he was, well, human. It wasn't what he usually did, but the mannerism did show up in everyday life, and it didn't feel so strange to him anymore. He just didn't usually do it. "I meant no disrespect, Dean, but…" He wasn't sure how to word what he was trying to phrase. It was very difficult, especially with this Dean.

Dean waited, the side of his head turning so he could hear better, hand cupped close to his ear, even though he could hear just fine. "What was that?"

Cass made a face for a second then it dissolved. "I'm thinking that you're too obsessed with helping Sam. He can handle himself just fine."

Dean was astonished. Yup, guy definitely had no filter, not one bit. His face twisted a bit. "Not from what I've seen, he can't."

"Sam has grown up, Dean."

"If he can handle himself, then why is his giant Sasquatch ass locked up in the hospital because some crazy bitch bit him… Yeah, he can really handle himself so great here."

"It was a sickness."

"Yeah, and I'm a demon now, right?"

Cass shut his mouth before he blurted out anything that would enrage the older Winchester before him. All he knew was that Sam was a touchy subject for Dean; it was most likely from the time Dean was from.

However, even though the angel wanted to calm down the situation, his silence infuriated Dean further. "If you say anything remotely annoying, man, I will fuck up your day." He deemed it best to warn the creature, just for the sake to say that he was warned beforehand. Now he really wished he had his knife back. It wouldn't do much, but he could sure as hell stab a bitch with it. That would make his week.

"What _wouldn't_ be annoying to you, Dean?" The angel was annoyed as well, less so than Dean obviously, but not too far behind.

"Everything, so anything you say will be held against you." _-In the court of me. Damn cop reference, now you decide to show up? Seriously?_ He could have rolled his eyes, but Cass' glare became more fierce, so his followed suit.

"Alright, then I will just 'come out and say it.' You're a - as I heard you call everyone- a son of a bitch." It was definitely not the best thing to say, and neither was the next thing, which consisted of "And you don't look within yourself to see the truth. You immediately jump to conclusions, just like with Sam and with me."

"You wanna know why I jump, angel? Because no one else will unless they're told. That's what happens during the apocalypse when everyone is running around. You think that it's all fun and games, don't you?"

He couldn't _not_ respond to Dean, so his blue eyes locked on the penetrating gaze of green, which screamed murder, and Cass could be the one to determine that. He had had a garrison when he was fighting Raphael. He shouldn't have egged him on, but he wasn't going to let Dean continuously snap at him, so he stated, evenly. "I would have dealt better with it, so yes, I do."

Dean's eyes flashed, and he hissed through his teeth, grabbing hold of his tie. "The hell did you say?"

"I'm pretty sure you heard me." If Cass didn't say that the look was terrifying, he wouldn't be honest with himself. "It would have been easier for me, but I guess that's because I'm an angel, and you're just a man."

"Just a man? Hmph. I wouldn't say that." He shrugged a shoulder, tilting his head slightly, almost mocking Cass' signature head tilt. "I'd say I'm awesome, and I ain't just a man either. I was in the ass kicking business, and man was I good. I'm still great, especially during an apocalypse. I was there, saving people, and what have you been doing?"

Cass didn't know how to reply, but he knew better than make Dean more angry, especially with _that look_ in his eyes that swirled, dangerous and threatening, so he didn't push back.

 _"Nothing."_ Dean growled.

Cass could tell Dean wanted to punch him so badly, but Cass knew he was injured. Also, he understood Dean had the knowledge that he couldn't physically harm an angel. He could try, yes, but it wouldn't make a difference. It would hurt Dean more than anything else.

"I was there fighting off Lucifer, saving one person after the next." _But you couldn't save Sam,_ his brain was back at it again. _And you lost so many because you didn't push yourself enough._ "I pushed myself every single day, and I survived until the last day. I didn't back down." _Even though it was tempting you, and it nearly caught up with you._ "I kept fighting, and let me say, I can't say the same thing about you or your kind."

Cass let him finish, and sensing that Dean's mouth was still going, he tried to remained impassive, even though he was slightly bothered at what Dean was throwing at his face.

"None of them were-" Dean's mouth clamped shut when he heard Sam's voice. He dropped the angel and stepped back as his brother walked closer. It took him half a second before he made up his mind to just hug the damn kid. When he did, Cass noticed the dark cloud edging away from the older brother's brain. It drifted to rest in the back. Also, the angel watched various emotions come and go on his face, so fast that even he couldn't tell where one began and the other ended. At last, it resembled relief, and Dean said. "Sam." The older Winchester couldn't stop the smile from his face. He released Sam after a little too long of a hug was shared between them. He instantly raised a brow. "Why are you out of bed?"

Sam rolled his eyes at his protectiveness. "I feel fine, Dean."

"I don't care what you feel. You're going right back in there."

"Dean," he sighed loudly.

"No complaining. Let's go."

They went to head inside when Sam told him to wait. Dean paused, hoping that it wasn't about anything Cass and him have been arguing about. "I have something for you." He fished into his pocket, not noting Dean's relief that the brainiac missed what had been talked about between the angel and the older brother, and pulled out something that made Dean grin.

"Oh come on, Sammy, you didn't have to." He reached to meet Sam's hand, so he could grab the weapon.

"It was next to me before I fell down the hill."

"Oh yeah, when I hit a homerun, and you wanted to take a midnight swim." He shook his head, cocky smirk on his lips. "Probably not the best idea you had." His hands were barely on the handle when it disappeared from them, and he instantly dropped his face, crushing it into a scowl only because of _what_ had it.

"Where did you find this," asked the angel, who stared intently at the weapon. "This weapon seems familiar."

Dean snatched it from his grip. "That's none of your business." He placed it in its holster, green gaze daring the angel to say anything else. Fortunately, Cass remained quiet, turning his eyes away. "Come on, Sam." He walked ahead of his younger brother, who followed him inside the hospital, who was also tailed by Cass. No one commented on his cold shoulder toward Cass as they went inside, and Sam didn't once mention if he heard anything before Sam reached him and Cass.

He could only hope that Sam hadn't been able to hear him, which seemed unlikely, but maybe it was possible?

* * *

 _ **(Next Time: Thrill of the Hunt?**_ _ **)**_


	6. Chapter 5

_**(Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. Thanks for the favorites, reviews, and follows. Constructive criticism is always welcomed as well.)**_

 _ **Summary: AU (from apocalypse to bunker) Dean thought that it just couldn't get any worse, but let's say, moving along in time was not what he expected, especially by an angel he never expected to see again. Haunted by his past and the future -with all the secrets & uncertainties- Dean will have to try to adjust to everything thrown his and Sam's way and then Cass' way later on.**_

 **Chapter 5: Thrill of the Hunt?**

 **. . . .**

Good things just didn't happen to Dean Winchester, not in his experience. Why would this be any exception? It was when Sam got out of the bathroom when he said something about the fighting mainly because of the looks the two of them were throwing at one another when he came out the door. "Would you two stop it? You were already arguing like a married couple outside."

Dean froze for a second. "You heard that?"

"Yeah, it was kinda hard not too."

He clasped his hands together tightly. "Uh, what did you hear?"

Sam shrugged. "Nothing really, just something about fighting, I couldn't really hear anything else. Why, was it important?"

Dean forced a laugh. "Nah, just some crap going on in the world." It wasn't a total lie. He gave the kid a tiny grin. "Nothing you need to worry about Samantha."

Similar green eyes rolled at the name. "Alright, whatever you say." Sam began to talk with Cass about something basic that didn't interest Dean at all, so he stared out the window, watching the clouds. He looked to his left as smoke swirled around his side, covering his view. He turned away from the smoke wafting up into the air, facing something much worse. Red outlined everything now. There was crimson on the ground, on the building a little down the road. He stiffly walked toward it, opening the door a crack to judge if something was going to rush out at him. He paused, tilting his head to listen. He thought he heard something, but he wasn't sure, so he opened the door all the way, taking out his gun as his free hand hit the doorbell. It surprisingly worked.

He waited for at least five seconds, and nothing showed its ugly face, so Dean looked over his shoulder to see his group of people scattered along the road, making their way over to him. He had only taken four with him this time to roundup survivors because they had been too late to reach the town in time to beat Lucifer's destruction. One of his group screamed, and his body snapped to attention, spinning toward them and heading down the steps; he took three at a time. However, a screech echoed behind him, and when he turned, all he saw was a face inches from his own and the thing launching itself at him.

He had been the only one to come back that night; he didn't know why or how. Honestly, he couldn't really remember it. It was pretty much a blur, but he always wondered how the hell it was possible that he wasn't torn to shreds by whatever had grabbed ahold of him. He had assumed it was luck and skill, but was it something else entirely? No, that wasn't possible. Yet, the angel's words kept coming to his attention. _What was he talking about?_ He couldn't wrap his head around it.

 _I wouldn't have done that… Ever think that I never left you…?_ He couldn't trust any word that angel uttered or spoken, but there was a part of him that wished he would trust him, but there was another telling him that he could never. It was almost like the Sammy Debate going on in his head, but it was like the complete opposite. Sammy's side was prevailing over the other by a thin margin, while the other argument was leaning toward the angel being untrustworthy and a liar; he was just trying to fuck with his head like the angel even admitted on doing. _It was only needed when I lied and deceived you Dean_ , his thoughts growled. _Frigging angel-_

His thoughts came to a sudden stop when he felt eyes on him. Out of the corner of his eye, he identified the source of the disturbance. It was Cass yet again. He glared at him fiercely, and the angel just continued observing him without much emotion present on his face. Dean then noticed Sammy's gaze lingering on him. He simply stood up and walked toward the door. "Hey Dean, where are you-"

"The bathroom," he said curtly. "Wanna come and hold my hand, Sam?" He didn't wait for the answer, and he just closed the _bathroom_ door behind him (not the other door - the one he had intended on taking at first), locking it afterward. He exhaled as he made his way to the sink, turning on the water. For fifteen seconds he watched the water gush out, and then he put his hands into the water. He washed his hands in the ice cold water, watching the water clean them off. After he finished and turned off the sink, he stared at the drain. His ears picked up hushed murmuring in the other room, but perhaps he didn't care to listen to them because his eyes rose to meet his reflection's eyes and tuned them out the best he could.

It wasn't difficult because they were intentionally being quiet, he knew this, but didn't bother to eavesdrop to find out what they were talking about. He didn't want to be part of their slumber party anyway. Green eyes stared back at green, and a blank expression made it to his face. His thoughts began to drift to Sam and how the creature was still roaming around. He'd hate if that thing came back tonight. He could only imagine that thing grabbing hold of his baby brother, tearing him apart or causing him to have that "sickness" again. His eyes narrowed. It was bound to happen another night; he couldn't let it get Sam again. He _wouldn't_ let it do anything to _anyone_ ever again.

He was going to end it. Somehow, he was going to make sure the thing paid for what it did. His eyes went back to the drain, seeing the leftover water hanging around the edge. It takes only a little to start something; he made the sink drip a bit. The water clumped together with the leftover water. It would take a lot more to finish it; he turned the water all the way on. It hit the rest of the water camping in the sink and down it all went. All he needed was to start hunting the bitch down. That would be the easiest part; next, he'd have to gank the whatever it was, and he would do it on his own. There was no way in hell he'd let Sammy go with him, and the angel was going to stay the fuck out of his way.

He heard the mumbling as he turned the water off another time. He paid it no attention, opting to look back at his reflection. He hated that what the angel told him made him confused and unsure. He studied his own eyes gazing back at him. _What do I not know, angel? Show me what I'm missing if it's anything._

He thought about everyone that he had at his camp; no one came off as an angel in the least. He couldn't pick off anything that seemed off about his crew, except… Actually, there wasn't much difference from anyone in his group from the ones outside it, and no one had lasted that long with Dean in command. It wasn't that he didn't care- he did; it was just how his team and him were the only ones brave enough to attack Lucifer if need be. Some just got so terrified that they'd run off before they took a mission that was anywhere near Lucifer; they'd just split and run. Others just didn't make it or were not as equip with weapons. Slowly one person came to mind- _Chuck_. He has never gotten seriously injured for some reason, most likely from Dean being there by his side. For Dean, it was a duty to protect, and Chuck had always been there since Dean understood that the writer knew more about this "type" of life than anyone else. Dean wondered if that's what Cass had been talking about. No, it couldn't be because Chuck was just that, Chuck.

He would have noticed if Chuck was an angel, especially if it had been Cass. That angel had been seriously socially constipated or something. Dean managed to stop himself from rolling his eyes. If it wasn't anyone around him, then who was he? Where was he? He definitely wasn't trapped inside Sam's head alongside Lucifer. Was that possible? Dean didn't have a clue, but he guessed no. The Winchester was so perplexed, so bewildered, that he searched his own eyes. _What am not seeing? You better not be pulling my chain, Cass._

He didn't witness anything to suggest something was off about himself until he saw his eyes change to blue, but when he blinked, it was no longer there.

. . . .

They had waited until Dean disappeared into the bathroom to begin to talk quietly with one another. Cass and Sam shared a similar worry about Dean, they realized after a bit. Sam frowned slightly. "I don't know what's wrong, Cass. He's been like this for a day or two, and it seemed to get worse after you showed up."

The angel's lips pulled down some as well. He wasn't going to tell Sam about where this Dean came from because something about Dean's thoughts and actions prevented him from doing so. He had noticed Dean's reaction to Sam admitting that he heard Cass and Dean yelling - well Dean's screaming and Cass' statements. "I'm not sure…" His voice trailed off as he picked up Dean's thoughts in the bathroom on accident. He was thinking about the creature and Sam. Dean didn't fully believe that it was just a rare disease. He couldn't really blame him because it hadn't been true anyway. He had sensed Dean's guilt as soon as he arrived, so he thought it was better to lie to make it easier for Dean to handle. It didn't really seem to matter though.

Sam sighed. "I'm worried. It's like he has the mark again…" The Winchester's face seemed to crumble more. "Or something worse."

"Why don't you talk to him?"

He shook his head. "Dean won't let me even try." He had been sitting up since they had gotten back to his room other than heading to the bathroom, so he leaned back for a more comfortable position. It went silent in the room for a minute until Sam turned to glance at Cass. "Hey, do you think you could talk to him?"

Cass' brows came together. "I don't think he likes me very much at the moment."

"Might as well try."

"I don't-"

"Come on, Cass. Please?" The human's eyes pleaded along with his voice. "Just try because… I don't think he wants to talk to me about it."

 _And you think I'm a better option?_ Cass stared at the youngest Winchester. They were family now, and if he learned anything from the Winchesters, it was that family stuck together and did everything for one another because that was all they had in the long run. Therefore, Cass could only do one thing; he had to agree to try to help out. "Alright, Sam, I will."

Sam's face immediately brightened. "Thanks, Cass."

"Of course." He gave Sam a smile in return, and then, the bathroom door opened.

. . . .

Dean could only conclude that his mind was playing tricks on him because he didn't " _see"_ anything else. He made a face at the mirror and turned to exit the bathroom, but decided to pick something up along his way. It was a small basket of some sort of food, at least he thought it was. He walked back into Sam's room, basket in hand as he took three pieces in his mouth. Instantly, his face twisted a bit at the taste. He sat down in an empty chair and tried another piece, getting the same taste. He didn't notice the tense silence he was sitting in, so he broke through it without realizing it. He made a face of disgust. "Okay, what the hell is this crap? It's terrible." He placed another in his cakehole - mouth or whatever name you to want to call it.

"Dean."

"What," he questioned, eyes looking over at Sam, who was speaking.

"That's soap."

"What? No." He raised a brow at the basket. "You're kidding right?" From Sam's face, he understood he was being totally serious. "Oh, you're serious." He shrugged, popping another into his face to try it again; it was the same taste. "I guess it could have been worse." He had to eat some weird crap back where he came from, and the majority of the time ended with him having to wash out his mouth. This time he was already way ahead of that. "But I thought only those expensive hotels or whatever had these…" He paused, looking at the remaining pieces. "Oh well." He smirked over at Sam, putting another in his mouth. "Look, I'm minty fresh."

"Dude, seriously," groaned Sam when Dean showed a mouthful of the soap pieces.

"I didn't know they came in mint flavor." Cass was puzzled.

Dean glared, rolling his eyes. "No, it's a joke." He made sure he didn't snarl out an "angel," cutting himself off at the last second. He put the basket on the edge of the bed, and he crossed his arms over his chest. They were both looking at him again. He was getting more annoyed as the seconds rolled on, so he decided to direct their focus on the more pressing issue now that Sam was better. "Don't we have to find your mystery woman, Sammy?"

" _My_ mystery woman?"

"Yeah, she was all over you." A grin pulled at his face. "You can't tell me you didn't notice."

Sam rolled his eyes another time that day. "All I saw was her kicking your ass, Dean."

"True, but she…"

His brother stopped him from continuing. "Find anything on it?"

"Found zip." He had been a bit busy stepping in the line of fire for Sam, admittedly not very well, but he had tried. "But it does seem to change shape sometimes. It's definitely ugly after that."

Sam nodded. "Alright, now we need to find a computer."

"Don't worry, I can get one." Dean stood up, rolling his stiff shoulders. Dropping his voice lower, he stated, "I'll be back." He had known where the Doctor stored the laptop because he had watched him put it back in its spot, and he even knew the passcode to get into the cabinet. Once he got his hands on it, he walked back to Sam's room, placing the laptop behind his back only once to hide it from passerbys. He opened the door, closed it behind him, and gave Sam the laptop. "Here ya go whiz. Have fun."

Another eyeroll from Sam; it was barely noticeable, but Dean had seen it. The laptop was placed open on the bed, and Dean briefly explained his research to his brother, and within twenty minutes, Sam discovered what the creature could possibly be. "It says it's an Aswang."

"Didn't we hunt one of those things before?"

"Yeah, but this is different. There are two different kinds."

Dean looked over at the screen. "Apparently. So how do you kill this one?"

"This one either originated in the Philippines or maybe Cuba. It's not really specific. It says some can shapeshift, and…" He scrolled down the page. "There's a few common things that'll hurt it. Light can do the trick, so that would explain the flashlight." He paused, noting Dean's bored face. "Alright, let me find how to kill it." It took a few minutes. "Found it. You can use a Bolo Knife and cut off its head, that's one way."

Dean was the only one that seemed glad about the news, while the other two had expressions of confusion.

"Where do you find a bolo knife?" Cass asked the question that neither Sam nor himself knew the answer to. Dean must have, but Cass wasn't going to dig into his head if he didn't need to. He never enjoyed going in anyone's head. It was just something that happened, especially if their thoughts were really loud. For an example, Dean's were always jumping out from among the crowd, no matter which Dean it was. He was just a loud- very loud- thinker.

"Really, you don't know where to get those things?" Dean raised a brow. "Wow… You can find them all over farms in the south."

"We should go get one and tonight we'll-" Sam started.

"No, _I_ am going to get one and kill the bitch, while you stay here and rest up."

"Dean," Sam sighed. "I feel fine. I can help-"

"You weren't fine a few hours ago, Sam, so you're staying here. That's it, no arguing."

Sam narrowed his eyes, opening his mouth to object when Cass said. "I'll go get the knife." With that, the angel disappeared, leaving a fluttering sound in his wake. Surprised? Well so was he when his broken wings had begun to mend themselves together somehow. He wasn't sure how they fixed themselves; he just knew that they did almost two weeks prior. However, it still took a lot of energy for him to teleport away and back again, so he tended not to do it if necessary.

After he had gotten his grace back and his (broken) wings, he was far from full power, and he still hasn't quite reached the level he had been at before Metatron cast the angels out of Heaven, but he was one of the lucky ones he guessed. He could use his wings currently, even if it nearly wiped him out of energy each time, but still. It could prove useful, especially being near the Winchesters, who always seemed to attract trouble. It was definitely useful at this moment as well.

The angel reappeared in a matter of minutes in the spot he had just vacated, knife in hand. It appeared that he returned just as a silent staring contest between the two brothers was coming to an end. Sam was the first to look away, and he admitted defeat, acquiescing to remain at the hospital. Cass handed Dean the knife just as Sam suggested the angel go with him.

A brow rose up at that. Him and an angel working together; now that's a great joke. "Uh, he's staying with you because she'll probably pay you a visit anyway. Plus, there's only one, so it should be easy." Dean moved the knife in his hand, flipping it for a better grip. It was definitely not his weapon, but it would have to do. His eyes went out the window, seeing how the sun was about to set. "Let's get this party going, shall we?" He headed toward the door, but his hand hesitated on the door handle. "Hey, Cass, I need to talk with you real quick."

Cass just followed him out since he understood that it was a command, not an invitation. "What is it, Dean?"

Closing the door so Sam couldn't hear, Dean's gaze grew dangerous. "You stay with Sam, and nothing gets in or out. You hear me, angel? Sam better be in one piece, and you better be in the damn room when I get back. Can you follow those orders?"

Cass looked him over. "Yes."

Dean blinked, but then shrugged. Not even his main people at his camp agreed to orders as swiftly as Cass just did. "You better." He started to head down the hall when he heard the deep voice say.

"Be careful, Dean."

That stopped him in his tracks. No one has said that to him in forever. He glanced over his shoulder at the angel, and he thought he should say something, but instead he just turned back around and left. Cass entered into the room after Dean disappeared down the hall. He wasn't sure what just happened with Dean, other than the fact that he had to protect Sam and couldn't leave or he'd have to face the wrath of an angry older sibling. He took his spot back, and he stared out at the darkening sky. Sam did the same.

They stayed like that for a long time, probably three hours by now. Sam had laid down in the bed, and Cass had leaned forward, placing his hands in his lap. He took his eyes off the window, dragging them to the vacant chair. He'd thought Dean would be back by now. He slowly rose to his feet, and he glanced over to Sam, who looked at him in question. Cass made his way to Sam's bedside, and his blade slipped out of his sleeve.

. . . .

Dean had drove out there, making his way to the creature's - no the Aswang Version 2.0's- trees. It was where they first met the wicked bitch of the forest, so it was the best place to catch up with her. _Unless it was with Sam._ His hands gripped the steering wheel of the stolen car harder. He didn't want to think about that what if, so he threw it out of his head. He just finished the drive and pulled into the little opening before the trees, keeping the lights on. He kept the car on too, but he stepped outside of the vehicle, shutting the door. It wasn't the comforting _thud_ of the Impala, not by a long shot, but it had a close enough noise he guessed. It's strange how he can be so attached to inanimate objects when he knew none of it mattered and could be lost in a second.

Take his gun for example or even the car. Both of them were gone, and Dean had no idea where they went. Most likely, he'd never see them again. Then, his knife fell during the fight, and it would have been lost too, if Sam didn't see it.

Dean looked around, seeing no Aswang or anything else for that matter. A sickening feeling surfaced. What if it went after Sam? The poor kid would be defenseless. Dean forced his thoughts to the back of his mind like he has done for so long, and his eyes scanned the area. _That's just awesome._ He went to open the door again when he heard footsteps. His hand stopped in the air as his face faced where the sound was coming from. There he saw the Aswang. He dropped his one hand, pulling out the Bolo knife, and he chanced a step forward. The creature just remained where it was. He switched the knife from one hand to another then back to his right. It still hurt like hell, but he would have to deal with the pain per usual.

"Hey," he began. "Can we make this quick? Cause personally, I'm not in a patient mood." He was never really patient anyway, especially for the likes of this creature.

Speaking of the creature, it just stood there, motionless, and Dean raised a brow at it. He knew that this was a bad idea, but he decided to close the distance at least down to two yards. When his feet were planted, the creature screeched, its limbs stretched and bent so it was on all fours. Dean expected it to rush forward, but that's not what happened. What happened was probably the worst turn of events he could possibly imagine that involved just the creature in front of him. The trees behind the thing began to waver and wind rushed away from where it stood. It screeched again, followed by a chorus of other screeches. _Oh shit. This just got ten times harder._

Hundreds of the creature scrambled out of the woods, surrounding the one on all sides, some were in human forms, while others were walking on all fours. _So much for quick._ He took a step back, body preparing itself for the things to dart forward, which they did in the next moment after a hiss echoed from the crowd. All of them rushed him at the same time; a few of them reached him before the others though, so he merely backed up and lunged at them. He sliced off one, two, and three heads by the time the group was right there. He ducked under claw-like hands, and noises that signaled their attacks seemed to surround him. Somehow he managed to chop off another four or three heads, but then he was picked up and thrown across the road.

He was back up on his feet, running some before spinning around. With that technique, he saw two heads fall and roll across the ground, bouncing slightly when they first fell. A noise howled behind him, so he quickly glanced over his shoulder, judging its distance and speed, and when it got close, he whipped around, severing the neck, and it slowly slid and fell. Only to reveal another creature that took its place as the body flopped to the ground. He braced himself as it smashed into his side, sending him skidding along the road, hitting hard enough to bounce off the side of the road. He barely managed to keep the road within his sight as he pulled himself to his feet.

He heard his bones pop and crack as another thing collided with his back, forcing him straight into the waiting crowd of monsters. He dove forward to try to gank another, but he missed and was sent to his knees on the road a little ways away. His body sagged as he watched them approach. At first, they were slow and seemingly cautious, but then they charged forward. His eyes narrowed more as he attempted to push himself up and found he couldn't move too well. He was going to try to wait it out, and he was going to attack when they were close.

However, he realized the knife was no longer in his hand, and he cursed loudly. He felt around, only coming up with his own blade. This was all he had left, and he didn't even know how many he had left to kill. Well this sure looked like he was going to frigging die here, and if the blood coming from his mouth and dripping off his chin or the rest of the injuries he had had anything to say about his situation, it was very dire. His vision blurred slightly when he finally rose up to his feet.

They were nearly upon him now. Automatically, his hand seized his weapon, resting just the right way as he took a swing at the closest creature. It dropped, but he didn't know if it was for good or if it was temporary. He just kept attacking until he began to feel numb. He was just working through the motions, brain on autopilot. Unfortunately, something collided with him, and he flew, crashing down the hill that led to the water. He rolled himself to his feet, but he was too unstable to move out of the way, so he ended up back into the air, crashing with the water in the next second. He hit the freezing water, and it was like his brain kicked into overdrive. He tore his way to the surface, but he was forced underneath the cold water again.

The cold was creeping into his skin, and the water went into his lungs as he struggled against the weight holding him down. He clawed toward the surface as hard as he could. He wasn't going to die, not like this… He didn't want to die here, yet darkness was claiming his view. Memories flashed through his head. Most of them were current memories or memories that were associated with Sam not being Lucifer's plaything. Dean heard a voice, but he couldn't make it out until a bright light hit his eyes, and he flinched away from it. Eyes adjusting to the dim night with the moon hanging overhead, covered in clouds, he surveyed the area around him. Bodies of the creatures were everywhere he turned, and he was covered in red from almost head to toe. His hand shook slightly as he dropped his knife at what he saw.

. . . .

Cass put the blade in Sam's hand. After telling Sam that he had to stay where he was, he was off to find Dean. He knew Dean would be pissed if he left Sam defenseless against the Aswang, even though he was going to be annoyed with Cass anyway when he found out he was out searching for him and not protecting Sam. Cass could tell that nothing was close to Sam to harm him, and he had the angel blade, so he should be able to hold his own until he got back. He just knew Dean was in deep trouble, but when wasn't he?

Cass had traveled to a deserted road, glancing for any sign of the oldest Winchester brother. He didn't see him, but he was determined to do so, so he teleported to the next turn in the road. There wasn't anything yet, and it had been his fourth road that he searched. He walked past an elderly place, seeing a van that had something about doors and windows, which he briskly continued past. He saw a turn, and then he saw something further up the road. He squinted some as he walked. Still there was no sign of Dean, but he did find body after body of the same creature. All of them were charred for some reason.

"Dean," he shouted out when he saw the car by the trees. He was suddenly down at the bottom of the hill, looking into the car. It was empty. Cass grew worried now, and off to the side, he saw a pale light. He headed toward it and looked at the flames on the body. That would explain why the others were charred. He made his way back up the road. He walked to the other side of the road, and he saw piles of the creatures, so many that would take the angel half the day to calculate. His eyes picked up a figure down a bit further, and it took him a second to realize it was who he was looking for.

He appeared next to Dean, nearly falling, but caught himself just in time. Dean didn't even notice him, which Cass found odd. He discovered that this Dean had almost a sixth sense with stuff like that. It would only take him a few moments to bring his attention to a possible threat. He repeated the Winchester's first name, but he just dropped the knife in his hand, which was shaking, and he was staring straight ahead. Cass followed his gaze, seeing the rows and rows of cars and automobiles in the water, including the Impala. Cass could only guess that all of those were victims.

"Dean, are you alright?" He didn't receive an answer, so he went to stand in front of him. "Dean."

It took some time until Dean's green eyes blinked sluggishly, and his vision came into focus. It flickered around at the cars in the lake then to the angel's face. He dodged the question on his welfare by admitting something. "I think I missed one." He thought he should stand up, but he wasn't certain if he could. He was deadbeat tired, and his head felt like it was exploding. He decided that it was now or never, so he forced his limbs to move, reaching his feet. He swayed dangerously, but Cass didn't attempt to help stabilize him until he fell forward slightly down the hill. Cass caught him and held him upright. Dean didn't seem to notice at first because he just stared at the water riddled with cars. Once he did, however, the angel was roughly shoved off.

Dean swayed again, but he headed toward the road anyway. He was leaning too much for his liking, so Cass was right next to him, no doubt annoying the Winchester, but he'd rather have Dean ticked off then cracking his head open on the pavement. When Dean's shoes hit the road, he stopped suddenly, taking a sharp breath of air. He was trying to hide it, but he was hurt - _really_ hurt. His eyes were closed, body swaying side-to-side. He turned his head over his shoulder, eyes opening to look down the hill another time. "You can't save everyone, my friend," Cass stated.

Dean grunted as he started to walk again, eyes forward now. "I'm not your friend." That finally seemed to get him out of his flunk because he continued with a glare. "What happened to staying with Sam, huh?"

"You were in danger, and he wasn't."

"I don't care what I was." He went to walk down the hill toward the car when his knees gave out. He dropped to his knees, hands outstretched to keep himself from rolling.

Cass walked over. "Dean, I can fix that." He raised his fingers, and he saw Dean's eyes widened just a fraction.

His hand was swatted away as Dean scowled. "Don't." He made it to his feet with a lot of effort; in fact, he was breathing heavier than before. "Be-besides… I deserved it…"

Cass didn't know how he deserved it, but he didn't voice his opinion on it. Instead, he suggested that he take them to the hospital; it would be faster, and since Cass pointed out that Dean would see Sam quicker that way as well, Dean obliged. However, he had a threat. It wasn't big. It just told him that he had to bring them to the hospital or he would "slap a dick." He guessed Dean meant him. Also, there was another threat that involved if Sam was hurt, and it wasn't something he wanted to repeat to anyone. It sounded both painful and complex, and he was okay with remaining in one piece thank you very much.

Cass placed a hand on Dean, who visibly tensed, and in the next moment, they were outside Sam's door. Cass removed his hand immediately after their arrival, stumbling some afterward. Dean didn't notice, and he also took no time in heading inside to see if his brother was okay and if he needed to pluck some feathers off an angel. He first noticed how dark it was, and he was instantly more alert. His eyes scanned the room, landing on the bed. He saw a shadow rise from the bed; it was Sam. Then, his thoughts paused. He didn't even register Cass shutting the door; he didn't even hear the nighttime noises of the hospital or the city below.

All he saw was the angel blade and Sam's shadow. "Hello, Dean," his brother's voice said, but it wasn't Sam. It had never been Sam. Dean stepped back once as Sam's body took a few steps around the bed. "Nice to see you again. Do you remember my promise?" Dean clenched both his teeth and his hands.

He was staring over at the dick controlling Sam's body. He was dressed in white, holding onto a blade that he didn't need. He could simply snap his fingers and make Dean explode. He had seen it done to various people. Sam smiled - Lucifer smiled as the room faded around them, something else replacing it. "It appears you didn't, well nonetheless…" He paused for a second. "I'm glad you're here to enjoy the show."

* * *

 _ **(Up Next: What A Jolly Good Show**_ _ **)**_


	7. Chapter 6

_**(Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. Any criticisms, anything I could improve at? Questions?)**_

 _ **Summary: AU (from apocalypse to bunker) Dean thought that it just couldn't get any worse, but let's say, moving along in time was not what he expected, especially by an angel he never expected to see again. Haunted by his past and the future -with all the secrets & uncertainties- Dean will have to try to adjust to everything thrown his and Sam's way and then Cass' way later on.**_

 **Chapter 6: What a Jolly Good Show**

 **. . . .**

Dean glared, eyes on the figure in white as the buildings and streets seemed to open up around him. "There ain't even going to be a show. Unless killing your ass is part of your show because I'll play my part then."

The smile grew wider. "Or maybe you just missed me? It has been a few days since our last meeting-"

"Don't flatter yourself." Dean stated immediately. "'Cause it's the exact opposite."

Lucifer brows creased as he smiled. "Are you sure? Well," he paused, head tilting to the side. "You could have fooled me, Dean." His response was a glare. "Don't get me wrong, you're kind of entertaining, fun even I suppose, at least enough to keep you alive."

The Winchester took out one of his weapons. "Hmph, you sure about that?" He circled around him. "I'm pretty sure you just can't kill me." He smirked. "Or maybe Sam's still calling the shots sometimes." He knew none of this was true, but he was being overly annoying because he had to keep Lucifer's eyes off the rest of the city, while the others got as many people as they could out.

Lucifer rose up Sam's eyebrows. "Uh, not-"

Dean cut him off. "I know why you're doing this, you know. You want to destroy every human on the planet, but save all the rest of Big Daddy's creations, right? But we all know who's his favorite- humans. Didn't he choose us over his own sons? Wow, you got real pissed about not being his favorite. And man, I swear you have more daddy issues than Sam. You really take the cake in the whole 'trouble in paradise' with your Dad thing." He whistled. "But He does have a point. Humans are much better, especially in comparison with a Devil. Oh sorry a winged dick with an anger management problem.." A smirk rose to his face as he "ruffled" Lucifer's feathers.

He saw the Devil in his brother scowl, and Dean found himself whipped into the side of a building. "Mind yourself, Dean." He began to walk away.

Dean stood up and said. "That the best you got? I mean seriously, the hell do you think you can do if you don't finish the damn job?" He raised up his arms. "Hey asshat, why don't you try to kill me? I'm right here."

Lucifer turned and approached him. "There's another reason why I keep you around. Want to know what it is?"

"No, I already know why; it's because I'm awesome."

Lucifer continued as if he didn't say no or some smartass comment. "I like how much you try to help your brother. I respect your loyalty to him. Despite the circumstances, you still think there's a way to save him. However, needless to say, you really shouldn't waste your time because Sam likes where he's at."

A hand grabbed around Dean's throat, effectively silencing him.

"He gets a kick out of all this. In fact, let's say he 'loves' this." A fist smashed into Dean's face twice, and next Dean felt himself collide with the side of a building again. Lucifer walked over to Dean, who was slowly making his way up to his feet.

Dean only received a kick to his stomach, and he grunted, falling back onto the ground.

"Poor Dean, you don't know how your brother really felt about everything." He clicked his tongue, grabbing hold of Dean's hair so he could tilt his face up to see his face - Sam's face. "He didn't like hunting, and he hated how bossy you were. Now he doesn't have to worry about you. You see, I protect him. That's more than I can say about his _own_ brother."

Dean's glare locked with Sam's gaze, and he spit red at his face. "All of you angels lie, shouldn't be surprised though. Hey, I was wondering, all that bitching and lying, is that why you were put in timeout? I think you deserve another one." Another fist plowed him in the nose. It cracked, smashing over to the side. "N… Nice one, almost felt that. Keep trying, maybe you'll get the hang of this next week."

"Yes, maybe, but you won't last to see it when the time comes." The smirk twisted Sam's face, pure unadulterated evil surfacing.

Dean gritted out. "What the hell do you mean by that?"

"Well… One way or another you're going to die soon. Either this way," he rose up his hand, fingers ready to snap. "Or this way." His basically closed his hand, leaving three fingers straight out. They were his thumb, his index finger, and his middle finger.

At that statement, Dean paled just a few shades, but he continued to stare down the Devil. "What makes you so sure I'm-" He began forcibly.

"Have I ever lied to you, about anything this important?" The Devil's hand drifted down to his side.

Dean knew that the answer to his question. He always understood that when Lucifer gained possession of Sam that the Devil didn't need for even the smallest of white lies anymore. His eyebrow rose up. "It's still lying even if you call it 'stretching the truth,' you know."

Lucifer shrugged a shoulder. "Alright, I promise you that I'm telling the truth. At this exact moment," he added. "I'm going to break your arm then we'll take it from there. How does that sound, Dean?"

Dean couldn't formulate a response as Lucifer dropped him, foot colliding with his arm. Dean heard it snap, and he yelled out before he could stop himself.

Lucifer smirked at him. "What's next Sam? Any ideas?"

Dean froze. "You son of a bitch." He scowled, rushing to his feet while taking a little caution with his damaged arm. "Just drop the frigging act. If Sam was there, he'd-"

"Are you saying Sam's gone?" Lucifer's face smiled, head tilting. "I think not, he's still up here." He tapped the side of his head. "And he watches everything, and I mean everything that _we_ do, especially this."

Dean's head whipped sideways and his body soon followed. He was sprawled along the ground now. He released a painful breath as he stood. "Yeah, there's definitely some Sam in there. Oh wait, that was _you_ punching- if you could call it that. I swear you hit just like a _human_. You would be better off with Sam in charge." He picked off another weapon that he had on him; this time it was his favorite gun. He aimed it at Sam's head and hesitated.

It was enough that Lucifer grinned more. "Well, go ahead and take the shot, Dean. We're ready." He stayed where he was, opening his arms up wide. "You won't harm your brother, will you?"

Dean lowered his weapon. "... You sure about that?" _Sorry Sam,_ he thought as a shot echoed around them; a bullet nailed Lucifer in the arm, who blinked at it thoughtfully. "I _can_ shoot him, but no I won't kill him because unlike you, we're family, and we stick together. Can't say the same things about your dysfunctional whatever it is because look who's in your corner." He grinned. "It's just you there, Luci. I bet it gets lonely without God, without your brothers, sisters. You're all alone."

"You're being a big hypocrite now, Dean." Lucifer shook his head. "And we can't have that now, can we?" Before he could react, the archangel slammed him into the wall. It was enough force that he stuck there. "And we don't need to mention fathers, now do we? Sammy says yes, we should." The smug expression surfaced on the Devil's face.

"Listen, I'm gonna stop you right there hotshot. I don't care what you say as long as you say it the right way, but since it is you, I don't think that's possible-" He managed to drop from the wall, and he stared at the Devil in Sam's body. He was going to speak, to complete his thought, but he was cut off.

Lucifer tilted his head at Dean, crossing one arm over his chest while the other held onto his chin. "Do you really think you could tell me what to do without repercussions?" He stepped forward, and Dean tensed as an annoyed expression surfaced on Sam's face. "You should know that you're just the babysitter that needs to be watched yourself."

"What are you saying?"

"Isn't it obvious?" A cruel smirk destroyed Sam's face. "You're the one that needed the help all along, not your brother, and _your_ actions are the ones that needed monitoring." He withdrew his hand from his chin, bringing it toward Dean. "From Sam's memories, I can see that you were the broken one. You were there when you lost your mother, when your father doted on little Sam, and who was his only real worry? Yes," he turned his head to the other side. "It was always for Sam. 'Protect your brother.' You had one job Dean, and you couldn't even handle it. You blew it Dean. Don't worry, Sam helped you out a bit though, even if you neglected to do so." He smirked. "Speaking of Sam, did you know that it was always about Sam, and maybe you, partially, but Sam was the main player in this game. He stepped up to the plate, allowed me to have my true vessel, as he should, but not you, Dean. You didn't; you refused to let my Brother in. Doesn't that sound like it was your fault that this progression took place? Dean, you like to mess things up don't you?"

"Yeah sorry that your master plan got derailed. Not everyone was glad to be part of _that_ program," snarled Dean, who backed up slightly to evade Lucifer's hand.

The smirk on Sam's face widened as his head tilted a bit to the side. "And look how that turned out for you. Your Apocalypse began, and you didn't assume your role. How else would this resolve? You can't defeat me. I'll always win, thanks to Sam. Yeah, Sam came around and accepted me." He brought his hand to land on his chin as he seemed to ponder. "In fact, he did a lot of things you never did. He saved your life numerous times. I could have killed you earlier, even the first time we met, but Sam was the one that protected you. He was the _only_ reason you stayed alive this long." He pointed out. "I wonder, why can't you return the favor, Dean?"

Dean ducked out of the way of the hand that headed toward him again. He was trying to forget what the Devil said, but it sounded so much like Sam, and it was the truth. He didn't save Sam when he needed him most. Sometimes. all he seemed to do was muck things up, but… It wasn't _Sam_ speaking, and the Devil was just another angel - an archangel to be more exact, which only made him much more of a dick. "At least I tried. What about you? You and Michael were supposed to have your big showdown, remember? Good thing I didn't say yes because you'd be made his bitch." A smirk played on his lips now. "Big brother trumps little one with the tantrum, but you wouldn't know that would you. You were stuck in your cage, where you belonged." He was rewarded with a glare from Lucifer. "Struck another nerve?" Lucifer's face darkened as Dean walked past him. "No wonder Michael was God's favorite, other than the humans. He didn't have much competition, especially with a-" He was suddenly yanked by the back of his shirt, smashing through a building, which in turn caved in around him.

He heard footsteps coming his way, and he could have sworn Sam was talking - no, it was still Lucifer. Either way, he ignored it until his head was dragged upward, and he came face-to-face with the archangel.

"You're not listening, Dean." Fingers snapped in front of his face to gain his attention. "Come on, pay attention will you? You're the only thing here with some kick left in you, even if it's not much."

Dean didn't blink; he just glowered in silence.

"Good, now that I have your attention, I can tell you something very important, so open your ears and get this through your thick skull." He jabbed Dean in the forehead. "Sammy is still present, and he does like this arrangement we have, to some extent. He likes how he doesn't have to fear anything anymore; he can get his revenge on his…" The Devil paused, giving a little shrug that was accompanied by a smirk. "'Inner demons,' so to speak. He's much stronger now with me bunking in his head, so he doesn't need you anymore." His voice stopped, hand tightening on the back of his head when Dean spoke.

"You sure talk a lot about Sam; it sure seems you have the weirdest boy crush ever, man." He paused, clearing his throat. "Have you ever read that book that he's not really into you? Sam could tell you about it."

"Then how is it that I'm always swirling around in this head of his?" Dean didn't respond, so Lucifer continued with his previous train of thoughts like he hadn't been interrupted. "I'm here in his head now, so, basically, what I'm trying to say is that there is no need for you." He tilted his own head as he stared at Dean's unchanging face. "And," he added, "I think it's time that we lay you off because there's just so much that anyone can take of Dean Winchester. Plus you are a major pain in the ass, you know that?"

Dean could feel blood roll down from the top of his head and from his nose, but it didn't matter to him. Instead, his expression darkened as his mouth opened a fraction. Unfortunately, he didn't get a chance to get anything out of his cracked lips. Lucifer had continued speaking.

"If you manage to survive this time- because wow, you're tough to kill-" A chuckle came from his throat, a humorless one at that. "Just remember, I'll be back to finish the job next time we meet." He patted Dean's head twice, making him wince each time. "Well, I really enjoyed our time together, and don't worry, you won't be missed. I still have the rest of my Father's creations." He paused, smirk stretching Sam's face as he said casually, "Good luck, Dean. You're going to need it." He winked real quick. Then, Dean was pulled up abruptly, and something pierced his chest. Even though he tried to protect himself, the blade still dug in deep, and Dean's breathing caught.

"You-you bas… bastard…" He forced through his teeth, which were already lined with red that started to flow over the edge of his lips.

"And I just complimented you?" Lucifer shook his head with feigned disappointment, tossing Dean to the side, and throwing the piece of rusted and bloodied kitchen blade to the side. "Just for that, I'm going to speak with a few of your acquaintances." As Lucifer began to walk away, whistling a tune, Dean watched the Devil's back. He knew full well that talking with them would lead to something more sinister; it always did with Lucifer. Black invaded the edges of his vision just as Lucifer glanced over his shoulder. To the left of where he lay, Dean could barely make out his gun, stretching his arm as far as he could. His fingers brushed along it, and he grabbed hold of it. He pushed himself up some with one arm.

"Hey douchebag." He aimed and fired, hitting Sam in the back. It was more toward his shoulder than anything else. It wouldn't have been a fatal shot even if Sam was still himself and didn't have an archangel in his body. "You forgot something." He shot again when the Devil turned to face him; another shot that wouldn't be fatal even to a human. He checked how many bullets he had left: _four_. He had made it to his feet when he had fired that last shot, and he stumbled over the debris beneath his feet. He saw how the white clothing went a little red.

"You…" The Devil placed a hand to one of the wounds. The shots that were relatively in the same spot other than it being on opposite sides of his body (being on his back and on his front). "Made me bleed my own blood…"

"Yeah? Now who has the last laugh?" Dean's smirk was weak as he swayed a bit.

Lucifer turned a face so angry and disgusted his way that the rest of his comments were silenced for a few seconds. He strolled over toward Dean, who simply stood there, raising a challenging brow.

"Can you hurry up? I don't have all day-" He grunted as a fist cracked off his jaw. He didn't remember much after that. There was just pain, and there was Lucifer's face. After Dean lay on the ground again, he couldn't help but think. _-Ain't that for sure._ (that he didn't have all day) His chest expanded roughly as the blood pooled from his mouth now. He saw Lucifer above him, smug expression easing itself onto the face. Then, the expression flickered to a worried one, and then back. It settled back onto the worried one, and this one moved its mouth, but he couldn't understand it. In the next second, he was met with nothing except for Lucifer's back in the distance. Somehow, he was standing as he watched. He took a step forward, followed by another.

He was going to go after Lucifer. However, something struck his back, that something was surrounding him and preventing him from heading forward. "Dean, that's enough," A voice growled by his ear. The grip tightened around his arms, and the buildings, the road, and Lucifer's back faded, being replaced with the brightest light ever. He flinched and shut his eyes, and he fought to get free.

"Let me go," he ordered, twisting and pushing as hard as he could. It was no good, and after what felt like a few seconds to him, he heard someone call his name. His wrists suddenly hurt as he tugged.

"Dean," his name was closer now. He thought he heard Lucifer, and he rose his head, searching. When he found Sam's face, it wasn't Lucifer manning the sails. It was his little brother, and Sam was clearly worried. "Dean." Hands wrapped around his head, forcing his gaze into his little brother's. He suddenly felt cold when the realization struck.

"S-Sam?"

. . . .

Dean had lost it when he reached the room, and he had lunged for Sam, who was holding the angel blade that Cass gave him for protection. Fortunately, Cass responded before Dean got close to Sam, clamping his arms around the older brother, restraining him as he thrashed around. "Let me go," he bit out, pure rage swimming in his eyes as his gaze bore into his brother. For a fraction of a second, Dean looked at the blade again, and Sam took that to drop it onto the bed, hiding it out of sight.

However, he wouldn't relax, and Cass knew why because once again, his thoughts were wicked loud. He didn't know the details, just that Dean wasn't seeing Sam at the moment. "Dean, that's enough." He didn't know how many times he said that, probably two or three times. He didn't want to use force on his friend, but with a terrified look from Sam, he knew it was required. To sum it up, Dean was knocked unconscious and tied to a chair, where he sat there, head hanging. Both Cass and Sam shared a long look as they waited for Dean to come back to them; both had slight frowns to their faces as well.

A groan announced Dean's waking, and then, he stiffened, wrists only being stopped by the tape. The head moved slightly, but didn't lift up. "Dean," Sam snapped up to his feet, leaving his previous spot on the edge of the bed. He was right in front of Dean. "Dean," he repeated a few times, and his brother finally lifted up his head somewhat, eyes still hard, yet somewhat confused. Sam grabbed his face. Cass remained in his spot behind the chair, off to the side, so Dean couldn't see him.

"S-Sam?" The green eyes blinked sluggishly.

"Yeah, it's me Dean."

Dean's throat tightened. He had went for Sam - the _real_ Sam! He was going to be sick. The room spun, and he tore his head from Sam's grip, letting it hang again. Even the ground was spinning around him. "Listen, Sam. I'm…"

His brother's voice sounded from next to him. "It's fine, Dean. Forget it, alright?"

"Why," he questioned, unsure how much he managed to hurt his brother. From what he seen, there wasn't much damage, but just to be certain, he rose his head, studying his brother. He didn't find anything, but he wasn't a doctor or an angel, so he couldn't really diagnose him. No one answered him. Sam merely glanced over to Dean's right. Dean followed his gaze, settling on Cass standing off to the side. It didn't take Dean long to connect the dots. Sam didn't appear injured because he wasn't; Cass had stepped in and stopped him.

He turned away, facing the window. It was still slightly dark outside, but he knew that wouldn't last too long. He decided it best to ignore the other two in the room, but he did catch what Sam said some minutes later. "You don't have to fight this alone, just tell us what happened."

Dean knew what he wanted. Sam was ready to talk about their _feelings_ , but Dean wasn't. In fact, he might not ever be, so he didn't respond. He still felt their eyes on him, but he didn't bother to look at them. What he did was something terrible. He was always supposed to protect Sammy, and he would do until he died, that's what he always thought, but it seems that some days wanted to ruin that. _Like this one._ A frown turned his mouth down faintly. He never meant to hurt the "real" Sam, and even though he didn't, he imagined what could have happened if the angel hadn't been there. He'd hate to admit it, but he doubted Sam would be walking and talking.

He rubbed his wrists against the tape when Cass and Sam looked at one another again. The tape scratched at his skin, digging into it slightly. Dean wasn't sure if he wanted it off or preferred it to remain on yet, so he just sat there, pulling against the tape slowly. After a while, however, the sun began to rise, and he realized what the good old Doc would walk into if he decided to check up on the two of them.

He let his arms relax a bit as he turned his gaze over to Sam, who automatically looked back. "You gonna let me go anytime, Sammy? Yeah, as much as I enjoy this, I don't think the Doc will handle it very well." At first, no one moved, but Dean couldn't blame the hesitation. "I'm not a shifter, demon, or anything like that."

Sam and Cass looked at one another for a split second; Sam ended up heading over toward his older brother, saying. "We know."

"I passed the tests? That's a first." He forced a grin onto his face at his idiotic joke.

"No, didn't need to try them."

"What?" Dean knew that if it was him, he'd make sure. His eyes drifted over to Cass with a glare when Sam basically told him that he didn't need to, hinting that Cass had already checked. Did he actually trust an angel to determine that? He cocked a brow. "You're going to trust him?"

"Yes Dean, I am." Sam bent down, cutting through the tape around Dean's right wrist.

Dean shrugged, looking away from Cass over to Sam. "Whatever floats your boat, man." His other wrist was freed, but he waited until Sam backed off to stand. With a quick glance at his body, he sighed, pulling off his black jacket to wipe off the mess that no doubt resided on his face. After he removed his jacket from his face, he noticed that his other jacket was ruined and bloody as well (it was just more noticeable because of the lighter color), so he took that off too, cleaning the rest of his visible skin. He tried to ignore the stares, but it was extremely difficult, especially when he could see them out of the corners of his eyes. "Alright, what is it?" He finally looked over.

Sam was the one who spoke up. "What just happened?" He asked. "And don't say nothing, man, because it wasn't."

Dean pursed his lips. "It's…" He couldn't think up a good enough lie yet; his frigging headache was definitely _not_ helping either. He pulled back on his black jacket, attempting to think. It's just that the Devil decided to pay him a visit. He opened his mouth to speak, but he was saved when the door opened. And that's what he would call being _saved by the bell._ They all turned to see the Doctor.

"Mr. Singer, it appears your car is out front." The doctor had paused upon walking in, staring at the room's occupants.

Dean went over to the window, looking at the parking lot, and surprisingly, there she was. He headed out the door as he said. "And that's my cue."

Oh man did it hurt to just breathe and talk, let alone walk to his car.

* * *

 _ **(Next Chapter: Saved by the Bell**_

 _ **-Lucifer was "God's Favorite," but Dean said Michael to make him angry. Also, the interaction between Dean and Lucifer was a memory type of event. If you didn't guess, the memory affected him when he saw Sam and the angel blade. I apologize I should have mentioned that this fic will deal with dark elements and some issues that people may not want to read, so be aware/ mindful of that.)**_


	8. Chapter 7

_**(Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.)**_

 _ **Summary: AU (from apocalypse to bunker) Dean thought that it just couldn't get any worse, but let's say, moving along in time was not what he expected, especially by an angel he never expected to see again. Haunted by his past and the future -with all the secrets & uncertainties- Dean will have to try to adjust to everything thrown his and Sam's way and then Cass' way later on.**_

 **Chapter** **7: Saved by the Bell**

 **. . . .**

He had been working on the car for at least two hours by now. Now this was something he could do, even if the car was kind of slanted in a way and still coated with water inside and out. He pulled himself out from underneath the car since he needed a tool, and he opened the passenger front door - more like yanking it open after three tries. He leaned inside, digging under the seat with a slightly irritated expression. You'd think he'd be slightly excited that he got his Baby back, but he was just a little salty about the condition she was in. The frigging creature and the tree totally fucked it up, but that didn't mean he was going to let this one rot.

He was about to move his upper body out of the car when a figure to his right startled him, causing the back of his head to clip the roof of the car. He grunted, drawing up his hand to rub the injury, while he stepped back from the car. "Dammit Cass. Say something next time would you?"

"I'm sorry…?" The angel's eyes followed as Dean walked around the back of the car, purposely not going to the front, where Cass was standing.

Dean climbed into the front seat, leaving the door wide open. He was glad that he had fallen into the lake earlier because when he sat down on the upholstery, water ran along the seat to the floor. The Winchester brought up his hands to the keys, which were still in the ignition, and he turned it. It started, somewhat. It was running like crap, but could you blame her? She had spent at least one night in the lake, not fully submerged but still. "It's alive," he smirked over at the angel, who was currently near the driver's side fender.

Cass turned his head to the side.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Not literally, Cass." The car spit out, sputtered, and then died. He looked into the back seat then he paused, and while he did that, Cass waited. "Hey angel," Dean had pulled himself over the seat then came back to settle in the front seat. "Want sushi?" He had a dead fish in his hand, and he made it wiggle some before he threw it at the angel, who simply let it fly past him.

The angel made a face. "If you have forgotten, I-"

"Yeah, angels don't eat, I know." Dean got out of the car. "How could I forget that?" Another master eyeroll came from him, and he was at the back of the car, lifting the already opened trunk, spying the dent that his arm had left in it. Without another look at that, he placed his arm into a small hole along its side. He wondered if he could find anything there, and something skittered over his fingertips. It was cool and hard, and Dean smirked momentarily. He grabbed hold of the object and pulled it out, revealing a beer bottle that didn't seem to be affected by the crash. He popped off the top, flinging it with the weapons, and let him tell you that it wasn't the only thing that popped either.

He rolled his shoulder a bit, and he put his head back as he let the liquid roll on his tongue. It wasn't bad actually. He caught Cass staring again, raising a questioning brow at him. In response, the angel asked. "You're drinking at eight in the morning?"

"Yeah, so?" He held the bottle level with his hip as he leaned against the back of the car. Before Cass could ask why, Dean admitted. "I always drink, Cass… Okay, so it's probably worse than before but still." Worse than before was saying it lightly. It was most definitely the worst he has been with drinking since ever because if he saw any alcohol, he drank it. It wasn't exactly common, so he wouldn't let those things go to waste, so his habit was pretty bad now if he could get his hands on any alcoholic beverage. He swirled the amber liquid, staring into it for a second before he downed the rest of it. Also, the apocalypse and him didn't get along very well. He slipped his hand inside the hole again, remembering once he tried this before, but he could never make it work when he was younger. Apparently this Dean figured it out fairly good, considering it had managed to survive both the attacks and his driving.

He pulled out another one just as Cass offered him something. It was his knife; the angel was deliberate and slow in his movements as he held the blade, offering the handle to him. Dean merely grabbed hold of it and pried the top off the bottle, flicking the top into the nest of weapons and whatever else was in the trunk.

He didn't miss the angel's face when he pried off the cap, so he asked. "What's with the face?"

Cass paused, choosing his words before answering. "It seems to be important, and I don't think it's wise to treat it like that. You might hurt or damage it."

"Now who's giving inanimate objects feelings?" He placed the knife in the back of his pants, pulling his shirt over it to conceal it. "Cause I don't think the damn thing cares how I use it." He walked around the angel to reach the driver's door, picking up his black jacket that lay between the two front seats in order to quickly clean off his hands; he also drank his beer real fast, managing to get it down halfway before Cass' voice continued.

"Dean, that weapon isn't man made, and it is no surprise that it's in your hand."

He turned over his shoulder, eyes narrowing some. "There's nothing 'important' about this; it was just something that I found inside an old, abandoned farmhouse." He dropped the jacket back on the seat.

"Something wanted you to find that Dean."

"Nothing wanted me to find it. It was just there, capiche?" Actually now that he thought about it, that's where he found Chuck for an odd reason, but he had been unconscious when he discovered the house. However, that seemed insignificant to him, so he shrugged it off. "You really need to stop preaching about something that never happened. It was just a thing that saved my ass, that's it." He gritted his teeth, dropping to his knees, then his side, and then his back on the ground so he could crawl underneath the car. Suddenly, he flew across the pavement and out from under the car by hands that were at his ankles, and his eyes locked with the blue ones above him.

"If you just look at it, you could tell-"

"Tell what, huh?" Dean used the car to help himself to his feet, never taking his gaze away from the other's. "That's it's just some metal, and some loony angel refuses to believe the truth?"

At loony, the blue eyes seemed to narrow a bit more. "You're the one that refuses to look at it. Anyone could see that it's well crafted, much better than a human could have-"

"Oh now you're badmouthing humans?" Dean's gaze and his voice chilled instantly.

"No," the angel made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a sigh. "I'm trying to explain that it resembles more of an angel blade's construction than anything else."

Dean a raised brow at that.

"It just doesn't look like one, though," Cass added. "The weapon has been altered as time passed."

Both of them stared silently at one another until Dean turned away, glancing over the other cars further away. "Alright, let's say the thing is actually important. What is it then?" He looked back at Cass, who remained looking his way. That was another thing he wouldn't be able to get used to.

The angel frowned faintly. "I'm not sure honestly."

"Great," the Winchester breathed out through his teeth, leaning against the car two feet away from Cass. "I guess we know the thing is stronger than a Bolo knife, right?" Cass was still deep in thought, so Dean hit him in the shoulder to gain his attention. "If you're going to think so much, get your ass out of the way."

The angel obediently moved to the side as Dean headed toward the front door, reclaiming his seat behind the wheel to try to restart the old girl. It didn't turn over, but man did she want to, Dean could practically feel it. He was about to check under the hood when he coughed into his hand, red pooling in his palm. He grunted once, wiping it off on his jeans. The angel said his name, but Dean ignored him.

"Alright," he said to himself as he managed to pop open the hood, pushing it up so he could have a look at it. His eyes trailed over the engine, along with all its parts and wires. "Well aren't you going to be a pain in my ass." He leaned over, picking up a clump of wires that were basically hanging together by threads. He released it just as Cass came to stand next to him. "You know anything about cars yet?"

Cass didn't have to answer; Dean already knew his reply. The fact was that Cass didn't know anything about cars, even the older ones. The newer ones were a different story. From what Dean has seen passing by or at the gas station the other day, there were all plastic and computerized or whatever, like he could possibly fix those damn things. "I haven't had the opportunity to learn." The angel told him.

"So… You don't have any free time?" A headshake was his response. "Hmph, tough life huh?" He teased lightly, but toward the end of the question his joking edge to his voice was gone. He stared blankly at the wires for a moment until he blinked and looked over his shoulder. "Heya Sammy."

Sam approached them, stopping to stand to Dean's other side, which happened to be his (Dean's) left. "Wow," was all that came out of his little brother's mouth.

Dean flicked a leaf off the grill. "Yeah, she definitely needs some tlc."

"Some?"

A small grin surfaced on the older brother's face. "Come on Sam, she's still a beauty and you know it."

"Yeah, right." Sam placed a hand along the headlights, which were crushed. "What does it need?"

"A lotta crap that's what…" Dean then smirked. "But to make her purr today, there's a few things you need to get."

"It sounds like you're selling something."

"Yup, and what you win is a free shopping trip. It's time for you to go shopping there, Sam." Sam's face was priceless, and it was something only _Sam_ could pull off. The Devil - He stopped himself and said aloud. "Don't worry, I'll tell you what you need to get." After he gave Sam the list, he sent him off on his merry way. "Follow the yellowbrick road, Sammy."

Sam rolled his eyes when he walked away. "Yeah sure thing," he called over his shoulder. After Sam left, Dean looked back at the car, figuring out what else it might need, while Cass just watched. The angel was confused as to how Dean could switch moods so suddenly. It was like a light switch at times; of course the other Dean did that too, but this one was more dramatic about it and did it more often.

"Can you stop? Trying to concentrate." Speaking of the random flips of personality.

Cass noticed how Dean was starting to get more irritated and tense. He decided that it was best to disappear, so he did. He teleported right out of there, leaving the Winchester to his own devices.

. . . .

Dean had felt when Cass had left, and he immediately relaxed a bit. Without the prying eyes of an angel, he got to work, knocking out the dents with one of the many weapons they had in the trunk. It didn't look all too pretty, but it sure beat what it was when he got it back. He also tightened anything that needed it, but since the Impala mostly had weapons, it wasn't exactly a walk on a beach. It took some finagling, using items that were poor substitutes for the real thing, but he managed to fix some of it. Currently, he was coming out from underneath the car to look for a small object that would fit where he required it.

Unfortunately, when his eyes looked out the other side of the car after he found something that would work, he jumped, smashing his knee against the side of the car and hitting his shoulder off the inside roof. He glared. "Dammit Cass, you need a bell or something if we decide to keep you around." He didn't bother to look at him again as he climbed under the car once more. He wondered how long it would take Sam to find the things he needed, realizing that maybe he should have went himself. It would have been easier for both of them, and it would have been less… stressful.

As a prime example, even though he didn't _see_ those eyes on him, he could frigging _sense_ them, and it was driving him up a fucking wall. Then the feeling left him, but that didn't mean Cass left him. He could feel his presence nearby. He could have rolled his eyes, but he began to tinker instead, attempting to ignore him. After some time though, Dean's thoughts wandered back to the angel and his relationship with Sam. His brother had seemed happy to see the angel when he woke up, and Cass had called Dean his "friend." It didn't take a complete genius to figure out that the angel seemed to be at least on alright terms with the Winchester boys, but Dean couldn't rely on hunches and emotions. Yeah, Sam was happy, so what? Dean would rather he be alive and safe than in danger and joyful.

However, he understood that he - himself- was dangerous toward Sam, so he wasn't sure what to do. He could just leave, but knowing Sammy, he'd try to track him down. He didn't want that. He could stay and mind himself a bit more, but then Sam would be wary of his actions and would therefore ask questions that Dean couldn't answer. Next, his mind rolled over to land on the knowledge that Cass had saved his brother, but that was once out of how many? Not too many for Dean to count, that's what. He sighed, jamming the object in his hand upward to dislodge something from the lake that got stuck in his car.

It was plain and simple; he didn't know what to do. Should he trust the angel? Should he trust himself alone with Sam? Should he stay or should he leave? He couldn't determine what would be the best course of action, so he shook his head, and - _Splash!_ Water exploded all over him as the thing trapped inside the underbelly of the car came loose. He coughed, scrambling out from under the car. He continued choking on water, body shaking a bit as the coughing persisted. Soon it ended, and he waited to catch his breath. His eyes opened as his chest expansion started to slow down some, and he leaned his full weight onto the side of the car. He suddenly remembered being forced down in the lake by a creature, but instead of reaching the surface, he began to sink, further and further down. He shook his head to rid himself of the visual.

 _Relax_ , his brain instructed. He made it didn't he? So why did it matter what he was remembering or what he couldn't? He should be used to that now. He felt the car underneath his fingers and followed what he was told to do from his brain. He relaxed and opened his eyes, staring at the glossy black of the Impala.

"Dean," a voice reached his ears. "Is everything okay?" It was Cass.

Dean's body did the opposite of what his voice said. He ended up shaking his head as he said everything was super; his eyes stung some, but he refused to let anything come of it, and he was with an angel, so he definitely choked it down. He needed another beer or perhaps something stronger would be better, but he did know where to get one of those things. He made his way to the back, opening the trunk, which he managed to fix enough that it could be shut. He fished around for another beer, but it seemed that there wasn't any left. _Well this blows…_ He was about to give up when something pricked his hand. He pulled it out; it was a broken bottle, but it still had some alcohol in it. "Yahtzee." He mumbled out.

He heard Cass say something about… Actually, he couldn't remember. It had went in one ear and out another as soon as it came. Instead he told Cass to check on Sam, well it was more like an order really. He saw the angel hesitate and almost look ready to argue, but instead he disappeared. Honestly, Dean was kind of grateful, but of course he would never admit it. He stared at the bottle as he thought, then suddenly he whipped it across the ground, making the glass shatter apart. Everything was so fucked up in his life, even more so now. He'd been to a future with another apocalypse, courtesy of Zachariah, and he tried to save his time, but it seemed he just messed things up, even worse than before.

He thought he had tried everything to make it right, but he was wrong. How wrong he must be if there was a possible future with Lucifer out of the way, and he didn't make that _his_ future or Sam's; Sam deserved better than being the Devil's puppet. His little brother should have this life, not the shithole that Dean created. He was the one that started breaking the seals, well he broke the one that got the show on the road, and Sam was the one that _accidently_ released Lucifer. Yeah, Sam made a mistake and that cost the world, but Dean was the one that snapped. He broke, and everything followed suit. He slumped against the side of the car.

He couldn't let himself ruin this future for his baby brother. He finally decided what he wanted to do. He wasn't going to like it, but… It didn't matter what he liked or not. That was life in the apocalypse for you. You had to do the unthinkable during tough times; it wasn't even comparable to the death and killings of monsters, that made actual sense to the Winchester. Sometimes he did things he wished he would never do again, but then the next time a similar situation arises, he had to do it another time, _and another_. It didn't matter what he wanted; he had to get the job done, and this one made enough sense to suffer the discomfort or even to die for.

It was about time something made sense again.

. . . .

Cass had left Dean alone without arguing because he knew he had to be in good graces - no pun intended- with Dean before they talked about his problems. Sometimes he had to hold back what he wanted to do and what he wanted to say, for both Dean _and_ Sam. It was extremely unpleasant at times, but he could deal with it for a bit if needed, and yes, it was needed very much. He found Sam, who was checking out of the autoparts store, carrying four bags filled with various parts that Dean had mentioned, which had gone over the angel's head. "Hello Sam," he greeted easily.

"Hey Cass, can you lend me a hand?"

"Of course," he said, walking forward to grab a few bags, which were heavier than the angel expected, but since he was an angel, it didn't affect him really. It would probably be slightly difficult for a human though.

"Thanks man." Sam let out a sigh of relief, adjusting the bags in his hands for a better position. Cass nodded once, while the younger Winchester began to walk back toward the hospital. "We should head back." Sam said aloud, eyes searching the skies overhead, blue darkening as the sun began to drop. It would be dark most likely in two hours or so.

"I could bring us there, if you want."

"Nah," he started. "I'm just gonna walk over." People have to realize that he had been trapped in a hospital bed for a long time at least when it involved the Winchesters; they didn't really stay in one place, especially somewhere like a hospital, unless it was needed.

"Alright, mind if I take this back to Dean?"

"Oh, yeah, sure thing, Cass." Sam handed all of the bags over to the angel, who silently took them, and Cass gave a nod. With that, the angel walked off swiftly, presumably to his older brother. His thoughts drifted to Dean, and he instantly frowned. He had no idea what was going on with him, and Dean refused to talk to him, so that would never end well. It was like when Dad died… His brother had shut off, responding he was just fine, but everyone knew he wasn't, especially Sam. Sam hoped nothing as bad as that had happened. Had he missed something perhaps?

Cass suddenly appeared next to Sam in the next moment, and he told him that Dean had the parts. Without another word, he fell in line with Sam, who also remained quietly walking.

. . . .

Okay, so maybe he didn't need to snap at Cass as soon as he showed up and Dean saw him, but Dean was still coming to terms with what he had decided. He wanted to play it in his mind, wishing some other thing came up, but unfortunately, this was the best solution at the moment. Like he discovered, his little brother's safety was all that mattered, so he shoved down his concerns and feelings, locking it behind yet another wall placed up to hide the troubling or disturbing events. He just hoped it was right after all. He finished placing the parts on the car, and his gaze paused on the sunset to the west.

It was now or never; he climbed into the front seat, turning the key, and it started up, sounding like dog crap, but running nonetheless, so it was better than nothing. He was just getting her up and running so they could make it home. He was out of the car after he noticed something poking out from underneath the seat. He grabbed hold of it and slid it out into the open. He studied it, concluding that it was his gun, so he twirled it around his finger then put it in its holder. Before the apocalypse happened, Dean rarely used weapon holsters, but when times change, sometimes so don't you - not always for the better (or worse) either.

While he made sure the gun was in its place, he didn't realize the eyes on him until he glanced up, and he jumped, scowling. "Come on, seriously angel?" He snapped, "Speak up will you?" He apologized to Dean, who rolled his eyes. "Mhm, sure."

Cass was located on the other side of the car, staring for a bit. Then, the famous head tilt, eye squint combo appeared. "Do you think it… She," he corrected slowly. "Will make it back to Kansas?"

"Well, she's gonna have to." Dean shrugged. "Might as well give her a run and see." He went to get in, but he hesitated. "Hey, uh, Cass?" He didn't continue for a full thirty seconds. "Here."

An object flew at him, and Cass immediately picked it out of the air effortlessly, turning both his head and his hand so it could be examined. "What's this?" His voice stopped when Dean asked what he thought it was. "It's… A… Oh…" He realized something, but wasn't sure if he was getting the right cues.

"Just shut up, Cass, and take it." Dean stated, slight annoyance creeping into his statement, but there wasn't as much of his bite as before when he said the angel's name.

A small smile etched itself onto Cass' face.

Dean tried to ignore the expression, but his eyes kept flickering over at him. "What?"

"You called me Cass."

He made a face. "Yeah, so? I've done that before."

"Not like you just did," the angel pointed out, hand tightening around the object slightly.

"Do you want me to call you something else? Cause, I'll be happy to call you a dick."

Cass let out a sigh. "I'd prefer if you didn't-"

"Oh wait, I'll call you a feathery chicken." He said playfully.

Cass narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

"Because I can, that's why." A smirk came to the older Winchester brother's face. "Come on, Castiel, lighten up, will ya?" He purposely used the angel's full name, receiving another head tilt. Dean sighed out. "Still with a stick up your ass I see…" _Whatever._ Dean ran a hand through his hair, turning back to the car for some reason that Cass didn't catch because he did something else instead.

The angel opened his hand, gaze tracing the bell before him.

* * *

 _ **(Next: Down With the Wicked Bitch of the West)**_


	9. Chapter 8

_**(Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.)**_

 _ **Summary: AU (from apocalypse to bunker) Dean thought that it just couldn't get any worse, but let's say, moving along in time was not what he expected, especially by an angel he never expected to see again. Haunted by his past and the future -with all the secrets & uncertainties- Dean will have to try to adjust to everything thrown his and Sam's way and then Cass' way later on.**_

 **Chapter 8:** **Down With the Wicked Bitch of the West**

 **. . . .**

After a few minutes, Cass placed the object in his pocket, turning his attention to the oldest sibling, eyes searching for anything that would suggest what he was thinking. Instead of voicing his multiple questions, one of which being if he was actually picking up on what Dean truly meant. He decided to keep his mouth shut, staring off into the distance, though. Dean's voice alerted him to Sam's approach, so blue eyes traveled to land on the two brothers. Dean and Sam were talking about the creature again, Cass was sure, which made his mind wander to how he had found Dean.

He tilted his head, studying Dean again, and he noticed how he didn't walk like he normally did and how his face would light up in pain, but it would disappear like lightning before Sam even registered it. Dean was injured, the angel concluded yet again. He could already tell that Dean's right arm needed medical attention, but he doubted Dean would allow it, especially if it came from Cass. He almost frowned, but he disguised it because the two brothers turned toward him. Actually, Sam walked toward where he stood in order to get into the car, and Dean had turned to make sure the hood was closed tight. He was about to move, but what Dean said made him freeze.

"Get in the car, Cass," he instructed him, opening the driver's door. He slipped inside the car while Cass made his way to sit in the backseat behind Sam's seat. Dean put the car into gear, slowly. Cass thought he heard Dean say softly, "Easy now, Baby." That didn't give the angel much confidence in the car's condition. The car started to roll forward, and Dean's eyes lit up a bit, but it immediately vanished.

Sam gripped his seat as the car suddenly died and stopped. Dean put it back into gear and started her up again. She did it without much fuss, and then they were off again. This time, however, she remained running… Until they neared a motel that they just decided to take for a little rest. Also, Dean hadn't told Sam about the possible one that got away, but he wasn't going to ditch town until he was positive the thing was done for. It sucked that the Impala died at least ten yards from their destination, and even when Dean tried to coast her into the parking lot, she didn't quite make it, so he put it into neutral and got out. They all had to push the car out of the road and in front of the motel.

Dean could barely help without a noise of pain. Luckily, he was able to hide it from Sam; from Cass, that was a different story. At last, they put her out of the way, stopping her at a door with a "7 " on it. After making sure she was in park and the key was in his pocket, Dean announced that he would go get the room key. He came back, and they unloaded a few things and went into the room. It had two beds, a table, three chairs with one looking semi-comfortable, one bedside table with the only light in the room, and one tv stand, which lacked a tv. It appeared to be slightly dusty too. Also, Dean was sure there was a bathroom, but when he went to look at it, he could obviously see that it didn't have a shower.

 _Just like the good old times._ Dean shook his head. "Hey Cass, you can get the other bed, I'll take the chair." He offered without thinking.

"I'm okay with the chair, Dean. I don't require sleep." As he said that, Cass claimed the seat, which was by the large window next to the door, which was then next to Sam's bed because Dean took the furthest bed from the angel. Yeah, he might have allowed Cass to stay, but that didn't mean he trusted him enough to be near. He slipped into the bed, under the sheet, lying on his back as Sam turned off the light. At first, Dean didn't sleep; he merely stared at the wall to his right. He was debating if he managed to kill that one creature. After a while though, his eyes drifted closed, and he fell into a rather uneasy slumber.

Sam immediately passed out once his head hit the pillow because he was still slightly exhausted from his "sickness" the other day. It definitely took a lot out of him. Cass' eyes went to the ceiling as he watched lights from cars light up the room. Unfortunately, after only a small time - around twenty-three minutes - the furthest body twitched in its sleep, head moving this way and that. Drawing his eyes to the movement, Cass saw the body move again, this time more suddenly, and eventually, the entire body flung itself out of bed, and the body headed past both beds toward the door. The angel made sure he glanced away so he wasn't caught staring, but the Winchester didn't seem to even notice him.

Cass waited a few moments, then he was up and following the shadow out the door. He saw the figure lying on the trunk of the car, eyes up at the stars. He didn't speak, but he walked to the other side of the car, looking up as well. They remained in silence until Cass couldn't hold his tongue any longer. "You're up," he commented matter-of-factly.

"Yeah, no kidding." The oldest Winchester stated.

"Why is that?"

"Not tired." He lied, a blank expression playing on his face. Cass gave him a dubious look, but Dean didn't pay attention to it. The Winchester merely stretched out his right arm, rubbing it with his left after a spark of pain shot through it. "You know, you can never really see the stars during the apocalypse." He told the angel out of nowhere. "They're there, but you never get the chance to look up at them." He frowned at the memories trapped inside his head.

Dean moved over from the middle to the side of the trunk, apparently leaving room for another person on the opposite side. He didn't say anything for a long time, and when he did, he yawned midway through his sentence.

"It's funny, you guys worry so much here, and back there-" He attempted to hold back a yawn, but he couldn't stop it for the life of him. Plus, Cass was pretty sure Dean didn't even realize what he was saying. "- No one asked, you know… The captain's gotta be…" His voice started to come out slower, the words more drawn out now. "Well, let's say, he gets shit done…" He sighed out, turning onto his side, back to Cass. "And he's gotta keep grinding… That's how… That's how you - we all…" His voice didn't continue, but the slow, steady breathing signaled that he was no longer conscious.

Cass turned his eyes away, up at the sky, remembering how "creepy" watching over someone sleeping was. He himself didn't consider it all too disturbing, but he wasn't human, and when he had been, it still didn't matter to him. However, on numerous occasions, Dean had told him how weird and strange it was. There's just some things Castiel couldn't understand about humans, especially when his main companions were the Winchesters; they would be considered more uncanny than the average bear (more uncanny than the average human to be more precise). He remained standing, eyes never straying from the lights dancing above until a sharp intake came from his right.

Blue eyes instantly landed on Dean, who tensed and moved his head slightly. The angel picked up the sound of teeth grinding together, and he winced in sympathy. Dean's body twitched violently. Cass certainly hoped Dean wouldn't jolt awake or fall off the car because that could be potentially dangerous, if he landed on his head at least. He moved around to the middle of the car, cautious. "Dean?" He questioned, but he didn't receive a response.

The Winchester's face scrunched up when Cass was able to see his face. Dean curled into himself, and a wave of pain nearly slapped the angel across the face. His questioning look was replaced with concern as a flurry of images and emotions rushed at him. _Pounding feet, Dean yelling out "go" to a group of people, a shadow creeping behind, red running down hands, the fire grabbing hold and suffocating, an angel's light far off and fading fast, a tear fell to the ground similar to the rain all around, overwhelming amounts of regret, "Why can't you return the favor, Dean," screaming surrounding and pressing in on all sides, a man out of the corner of his eye listing off names, "Remember my promise," the numbness spreading out with the mantra to keep going, to keep running._

Dean groaned, head whipping up a bit as his right arm stretched out. Cass felt terrible about tuning into the vivid dreams, but they were so loud that he couldn't ignore them. He did try once, but his attention was brought back when he heard his name among the pictures and emotions. _Cas, Sam, it was cold so cold, he lost everyone… 'Trust me Dean' a deep voice grumbled, temperatures dropped even lower, Sam was gone, a cruel smirk accompanied another round of sudden pain, then there was fear that crashed down, more running steps, "Good luck, Dean."_

Dean's brows scrunched together more tightly. " _I will kill you" Dean promised, a sickened laugh echoed around his head, silence nothing but deafening silence, he swirled around in search and saw no one, "Pity they left," look who's in your corner, stiff steps forward toward a door with a 7 on it, glance around and nothing in sight, there was nothing here anymore…_

Dean's breath caught in his throat, and Cass frowned as if these were all his own memories and fears. It felt like _he_ was living the nightmare along with Dean. _A band of people walking, only one came back, a question of why him, a gunshot pierced through the air._

Cass couldn't break away from the nightmare, as if it were trapping him as well. _Aiming of the gun at the back of his head, wrists tied, "go ahead and do it" Dean told them, the chair flipped clattering to the floor, fear wrapped around him as he walked along the beaten path, a limp to his step as he neared lights in the distance, he straightened to push the pain aside, he knew he couldn't show weakness, something shattered above him, turning, the window breaking to the other side, he spun around in circles, it was too much when eyes locked on the ragdoll figure, Sam… It was over, the creature turned its body mocking, no it wasn't the creature anymore, it was himself._

Dean made a noise so uncharacteristic of himself that it kicked Cass out of his stupor, and the angel was immediately leaping into action. He had enough; they both did. He grabbed hold of Dean's shoulders, shaking him. Dean merely frowned in his sleep and then sucked in a shaky breath. _Sharpening of the blade, eyes staring and unblinking, the worry left, he was numb, shouldn't feel this way, a demon turning away, the light flashing off a blade as the weapon killed it-_

Cass called out Dean's name, but it wasn't heard apparently. _\- I'm going to die, no I refuse, anger flared, "come and get me you bastard" Dean yelled above the screeching and screams, anger, more anger, anguish next-_

Cass could still feel the nightmare and everything in it like it was the present. The angel couldn't think properly. It was like he was trapped. _\- It doesn't matter anymore… He was coming, the fear faded as quick as it appeared, "sometimes you want to just throw everything out the window but you can't, trust me I've tried" Dean's voice mumbled from far away, the gun wavered in hands, just one more time that's it but it's never just once more, eye to eye with a barrel of a gun, nervousness surfaced, turning the gun to point forward, should I?_

Cass hit the car, hard enough to dent it. Still, Dean didn't even flinch. Now he was getting worried. _A gun exploded from in front of him, "What's next Sam," he's gone there's nothing you can do about it, "Sam's stuck up here," the angel left, be the captain, doesn't matter, pain and anger came into his head, doesn't matter just shove it down, keep grinding but it's so difficult, the despair overwhelming his surroundings, doesn't matter, no angel, no brother, no Cas and no Sam, he had no one, the weight on the shoulders increased with each step, gotta keep going, pain erupted throughout his body, push it aside, snow littered the ground, "Doomsday" Dean's voice labeled it -_ Cass was about ready to jump on the car soon (not literally of course) because no matter what he did, Dean merely groaned or his eyebrows drew together. He began to curl around himself again. Cass narrowed his eyes, not looking as anxious as he was inside his head.

" _You ready," pain followed, coldness resting in his heart, keep adding to the list of screw ups, uncaring, another body down, bottom line: he didn't want to care, everything circled around him in the darkness, things blurred, pain in his eyes, it was silenced, he couldn't let any tears fall, "How much blood do you have on your hands," staring, there's too much, sadness drew him up, a drink in hand, liquid disappearing automatically, another city, another person, another village, he was still around, this war was going to end, another drink but something stronger, a explosion in the distance that rattled windows, time to move out._

Cass grabbed hold of Dean again; he didn't know what to do. He thought about invading his dreams to try to rouse him, but he was prevented from doing so. One, the memories were going so fast that anyone could get lost in them, and it was already attaching itself to Cass as if he experienced these feelings and events. Two, he wasn't certain what would happen if he did get in there. He might be caught up in them as well or if Dean found out… He didn't want to think about that. However, when Dean started choking, he was ready to throw out his worries and just dive right in. Cass couldn't breathe now as the nightmare pulled him back in. _Hands tightening around the throat, a knee crashed upward, he could breathe, black eyes from the left, unbearable pain all around…_ Cass hit the Winchester directly in the face, who lurched sideways, but didn't tumble off the car. Then, the angel grabbed hold of his friend's collar with both hands, thinking - no demanding- for him to wake up.

"Dean, wake up." He said lowly. No movement or noise came from the oldest brother's mouth. However, the nightmare had suddenly ceased. He released Dean, eyes troubled. He leaned in a bit closer, studying the face, and he almost jumped back when the green eyes fluttered open.

"Uh… Cass, personal space man."

The angel backed off to the other side of the car. "You alright?"

Dean raised a brow with a slight narrowing of his eyes as he propped himself up a bit onto his elbow. "Just dandy. Why?"

"It seems you were having a nightmare." Blue eyes traveled to the bruise on Dean's face, and Cass frowned. He didn't mean to injure Dean, but he had been running out of options.

Dean shrugged, rubbing his cheek, and he accidentally hit the forming bruise, and he winced. "Did… You hit me?"

"You wouldn't wake up-"

"So you frigging hit me?" He asked incredulously.

"It was getting-" He tried to explain, but Dean cut him off once again.

"Dude, I don't care. Forget it." He took his hand away from his face and got a little more comfortable on his back. He hesitated before asking if Cass saw anything.

The angel paused. "Only a few things," he lied. He didn't want Dean to feel any more awkward or self-conscious than he most likely already was, but he wanted to be honest as well. "I felt some of your emotions as well," he added quietly.

Dean shifted uneasily and gave a slight shrug like he didn't care, but he truly did. He attempted to say casually, "Enjoy the picture show any?" He joked, which fell flat, and a frown reached his face. "Hey Cass, do me a favor. Stay out of my head for awhile. I have to think."

The angel consented with a small nod, eyes still trained on the Winchester for a second before glancing away. Dean sighed, thoughts heading to his nightmare. To everyone else, it would seem random and unable to be followed, but to him… Well, let's just say that not just an angel can "Delorean" him to a different time. He picked up some of the events, stewing in the memories for a bit. Then, he threw out all of his thoughts, and there was only silence left. Unfortunately, the silence seemed to surround him, crushing him underneath it all - the pain, the guilt, the horror, everything- and Cass could feel it. The angel glanced up at the moon. "Some things hurt, Dean, but you have family to fall back on now. You have Sam and… Myself as well." He paused. "Even if you don't think of me as family, that's what you are." He saw Dean look over at him, and his blue eyes slid over without him having to turn his head.

Dean turned away. "Oh great, an angel likes me." He sighed with a quick roll of his eyes. Then his eyes went back up at the sky, left arm coming up behind his head as a substitute for a pillow in the process. "Everyone knows that things change and I'm gonna say-" He stopped himself. "Nevermind, just forget it." He shoved the invisible wall back up, and he stared without emotion at the skies above.

Cass hid a frown. "Sam's right, Dean."

"What?" Green eyes snapped over to him.

The angel looked up at the stars again. "For millenniums, I've watched the activities of Earth from above in Heaven. I've seen things; I've seen people, so much that I've lost count, and I noticed that no one was truly able to hold it all in without repercussions - without consequences afterward." Blue eyes shown brightly in the moonlight as he looked over at Dean, who straightened up on the trunk.

Dean said. "That's what I do, and I'm fine."

"Are you?"

Dean swirled his body so his feet touched the ground and his back was turned toward the angel. "Good as ever." He was off the trunk, walking to the front of the car, and Cass met him there on the opposite side of the car.

"I know that's not true." His eyes narrowed. "I can see your guilt, your pain, your anger. Don't lie to me, Dean."

Dean glared silently, arms crossing over his chest.

"We all experienced loses, Dean, some more than others." Dean turned away, as Cass continued. "I know that you don't wish to talk about the apocalypse with Sam, I understand that, but-" Dean had snapped his head to the closed door of their room when he mentioned the apocalypse, but the angel didn't acknowledge it. "- I know how difficult it is to hold it all in, and you shouldn't face that alone."

"What the hell do you know?" He gritted out, a glare heading over in the angel's direction.

"I've done… A lot of horrible things, some I thought were my fault, which you and Sam convinced me otherwise, others I knew were entirely on my shoulders. I tried to right them, but I didn't know how to. It seemed that I messed things up more than I could help. Don't tell me you can't relate."

"Shut up, Cass," it slipped out as the green eyes clenched closed. "Just shut your face."

"The truth is Dean, you keep trying, that's what counts." He raised a hand to place on Dean's shoulder, but then he brought it back down to his side. "Eventually, you will set things right because there's so much failure and death that the world can handle, that something good must come to balance it out."

Dean opened his eyes, glancing over his shoulder.

Blue and green connected, and Cass said, deciding to use another analogy. "It's almost like fighting a war. Some battles you will win, others you will lose, but you can't give up simply because you're not winning at the moment. The opposite side of the conflict will never do such a thing, so neither should we."

They stared at each other for a bit, neither one breaking the silence or the stillness until Dean narrowed his eyes slightly. "What do you know about-"

The angel returned the look after some time. "Just trust me, Dean."

The Winchester's expression darkened. "Trust you?"

"Please don't refer back to-"

"Why the hell would I 'just trust you?'"

"Dean," Cass started, and he turned his back on Dean. He didn't want to argue. "... You- You can believe whatever you want." He was swung around by a tight hand on his shoulder, coming face-to-face with Dean again.

"I need just a little more than just 'trust me.' How do you know all of this?"

Cass' eyes stared above his head then back to his face. "You have your secrets, I have mine."

Dean made a face that said _yeah, really? No shit sherlock._ "Some more than others," he mimicked what the angel had said earlier.

Cass glared. "No one has as much as you, Dean."

Dean blinked then he continued to glare. "That's my problem then." His green eyes grew fiercer. He went to stomp his way inside, but he was prevented by the angel's statement.

"And then you make it others' problems." Cass' voice sounded behind him in irritation.

He swirled around, instantly in front of the angel again. "What?"

"You let your problems add up until it's too much, you've done this from the beginning, and it doesn't help anyone you come in contact with."

"I don't need advice from an _angel_."

"Why not?" Blue eyes seemed to drill into Dean, scanning for anything Cass wanted to find. "Is it because of Lucifer? Is that why you hate angels-"

"Don't talk about that son of a bitch." A look unlike any before crossed the Winchester's face.

Cass knew when the archangel's name came out that it was a mistake, and the look that crossed the other's face tripled his guilt. The look was rage - undeniable hatred- and something else buried deep down. "Dean, what happened back in your time?"

"Oh you know, fucking picnics on a beach, tons of traffic, the usual," he bit out sarcastically. "It's was just Lucifer being the major dick he was," he spread his arm wide, glancing up at the sky for a second. "Just a regular day in the fucking neighborhood with Luci." His jaw tightened, and the look seemed to intensify when it came back on Cass' face. It was similar to the one that made the angel back down from earlier.

The angel looked away. "I'm sorry for bringing him up." He had never wanted to piss the Winchester off; he merely wanted to receive answers, just not like this. His eyes came back to Dean's glowering.

"That's just great, you're _sorry_." Dean put emphasis on the word, hissing it through his teeth. "Being sorry doesn't account for crap, angel." He growled lowly, turning away from the angel with both his hands and his teeth clenched tightly together. He wanted to nail the angel in the frigging face.

He headed to go inside before he attempted to kill the blue-eyed creature. That's just what he needed - kill the angel and get Sam on his case. Cass didn't bother to move from his spot, simply opting to avert his eyes from Dean's retreating back. However, something came out of Dean's mouth that he wasn't going to leave unanswered.

"Don't just blame him for my hatred of angels because you're no fucking better, Cass."

Anger flashed into the angel automatically, and before he knew what he was doing, Dean was thrown onto the hood of the car. It didn't harm him - Cass had been slightly less forceful than usual; it really just seemed to stun the Winchester. "If I was truly no better than him-"

Dean got off the car, silencing him for a moment. "Ever think you were worse?"

Cass narrowed his eyes, gaze flickering to Dean's right hand that twitched slightly. It hovered over the gun at his side. "What are you waiting for? Come on already." He stated as Dean slowly drew out the weapon, pointing it directly at the angel's forehead. Cass stared at Dean, barely looking at the gun now. He understood he couldn't die just from a simple gunshot, so he wasn't too worried.

Dean didn't pull the trigger yet, but he wanted to. Man, did he want to give him a third eye. He knew it wouldn't kill the damn angel, but it sure would sting like a sonofabitch. He was ready to pull the trigger, and then, he did.

. . . .

The shot echoed in the parking lot, but Cass was hole free. He had been watching Dean, waiting for the inevitable "pain" that would follow the loud bang, but just a split second before Dean shot, his green eyes flickered to look somewhere over Cass' shoulder. The eyes grew hard after a small bit of confusion slipped into them. _Then_ the shot came.

Cass turned to look where the Winchester had shot, but Dean was suddenly leaping over the hood, blade in hand and coming down on something, while pushing the angel out of the way. The angel faced him after catching himself, seeing a splatter of fluid across Dean's cheek, while Dean gently kicked a circular object - a head - which rolled to lay to rest underneath the window of their room. The rest of the creature's body was at Dean's feet. Dean turned a glare up to the angel, who blinked slightly.

Cass was actually speechless, and he observed Dean for a few moments, his brain trying to determine what had happened. Yes, of course Cass knew _what_ happened; Dean just saved him in the knick of time, or at least killed the Aswang before it attacked either of them. He just couldn't piece together _why_ though. He squinted over at him in question.

Luckily, Dean was as confused as he was. He guessed it was just a reaction, something beyond his control, but he had just saved a frigging angel for pete's sake, and he wasted a bullet on it. Thinking about bullets, Dean checked his gun - _one bullet left_. He slipped it back into its holder, rubbing the back of his neck. He didn't use the gun usually because he planned on shooting the Devil with it a few more times before he died. He was wondering where the rest of his bullets went. One was to save both Sam and himself, more so that he could stop Sam from rolling into the water. That one was alright with him, but the last one… That was just _insane_!

 _An angel?_ Seriously he used one for an "Angel of the Lord?" It definitely surprised him, and from the angel's puzzled stare, Dean concluded that he had the same question he did. Why save him, especially since they had been arguing, almost fighting, before the thing showed up? He honestly didn't know. _It didn't matter_ , his brain reasoned. _It's over with now._ There was no need to cry over spilled milk, now was there? He would just have to keep in mind that he only had one shot left, so he had to save it.

"So, uhm…" _Awkward._ "Sorry to break up this slumber party, but I'm gonna…" He tripped over the body, hitting the car's right fender. He mentally cursed at it, but continued out loud. "Go, uh, check up on Sam."

"I'll take care of the creature," Cass said as Dean nodded, skirting around the angel without looking at him as he wiped the back of his hand to rid his face of the fluid from the creature. Cass leaned down, grabbing the body of the creature then the head next. He teleported away to dispose of it, and he returned. He appeared by the open door of their room, and he listened.

"I have a good backhand-" _Whack!_ Cass blinked and tilted his head at the sound of a slap coming from the room; he walked closer so he could see the commotion inside.

An irritated, "Dean!" was yelled out next.

"- _And_ I'm awesome at tennis. Actually, no not really, but whatever… Rise and shine, sleeping beast."

Sam huffed. "First of all, what the hell man?" Dean shrugged with a tiny grin. "And second, it's sleeping _beauty_ , not sleeping beast."

"Dude." Dean's brows came together. "Can you be any more gay?"

Sam was about to say something pertaining to Dean's last sentence, but he was shoved toward the door. "Hey!"

"Hay is for horses, Sammy." This wasn't exactly checking up on Sam like Dean said he was going to do. "So come on and gallop. We're going -" He didn't know what to call the place he had woken up in, but he knew he didn't classify it as home either. There was no home in the apocalypse.

The younger stumbled. "Alright - _Alright_. I can walk on my own, Dean!" Dean let him walk to the door without another push, placing the keys on a shelf before he headed out the door. "Seriously," Sam grumbled to himself as he made it to the front passenger door. He hesitated. "I thought it wouldn't run."

Dean's brows shot up real quick, and he grinned. "Emphasis on thought, Sammy boy. The beauty will make it this time."

Sam gave him a doubtful look, eyebrow cocked upward. "You sure?"

"Yup, she just got overheated, that's all. We'll stop somewhere on the way back." Dean walked over to his driver's door, opened it after throwing their things in the backseat, and caught the angel hesitating by the door of the motel. He rolled his eyes. "You coming or what?" He sat down in his seat, closing the door without an answer from Cass. The angel appeared in the back of the car, behind the driver's seat, and Dean shook his head. "Keep doing that and you'll get flabby, you know."

"No," the angel squinted his eyes. "I don't know."

"Whatever you say, Cass."

The angel looked down at himself, gaze wandering to figure out what Dean meant. He just had no idea.

When they were all seated, the Impala roared -kind of- to life, and they were off on the road again, two Winchesters- the high school dropout and the one that could have lied his way through life _and_ get paid- and an angel that wasn't so holy. It was almost like the start of a bad joke, and whoever they met, they would be the "punchline."

* * *

 ** _(_ _Up Next:_ _"Home" Sweet Prison?)_**


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